


You put your arms around me (and I'm home)

by sarcastic_fina



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Ficlet Collection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-09
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2018-01-24 02:56:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 36
Words: 38,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1589105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarcastic_fina/pseuds/sarcastic_fina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of Darcy/Bucky oneshots, drabbles, and prompt fills.</p><p>(36) "I took your hoodie and I’m not giving it back."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. "I just want you to be happy"

It was the same old fight. Over and over again. He’d make progress, one step forward, and then something would happen, he’d get triggered, and all that work he put in would be for nothing; three steps back. Darcy called it his relapses in her head; not out loud because even her faulty brain-to-mouth filter knew some things were better left unspoken. 

They’d been doing this dance for almost a year now. He’d let her in, let her get close, not just physically, but emotionally. He didn’t have any trouble pulling her in with his hands, dragging callused fingers, both flesh and blood and cold and metal, up and down every curve she owned. But it was the other stuff, the gritty stuff that kept him up at night, that he had trouble sharing with her. And she got it; some people had baggage, his was more than the average person’s. She wasn’t holding grudges, that wasn’t her style. She maintained that one day he’d let her in, maybe all the way, maybe just a little bit, and it was worth the wait.  _He_ was worth the wait. 

But as certain as she was about him, he wasn’t even half as sure about himself. 

"I’m not right for you," he’d tell her, even as he was dragging her bra strap down her arm by his teeth.

And she would try to argue, but it was hard to do when he had two fingers buried inside her and he was licking his name across her neck. His full name. The one he was born with.  _James Buchanan Barnes._ She wondered sometimes if he hoped it would stick so he could look at it there in her skin and remind himself of who he was at his core. And when it didn’t, he tried again, writing it over and over, his teeth nipping at her skin. 

He was a good man, even if he never let her tell him that. He’d shake his head before she’d finish and she could see it in his eyes, all the reasons he had that he wasn’t, that he was nowhere near a good man. But he wouldn’t tell her, wouldn’t lay those memories, those deaths, those missions out at her feet. He’d just kiss her to shut her up or press her back against the bed or distract her with whatever he was putting together for dinner, shoving a spoon of pasta sauce between her lips or smearing it on her chin to make her laugh. 

That didn’t stop her from trying to tell him, though. Didn’t stop her from believing it either. 

She couldn’t  _make_  him believe it. She could shout it from rooftops and say it until her lips bled, but she couldn’t make him believe what she knew to be true. He had to learn it for himself.

"I don’t know what you want from me," he sighed, rubbing the heels of his hands into his eyes.

He was wired up tonight, pacing to try and get the energy out. But it wasn’t going anywhere. He’d already hit the gym with Steve and he’d gone for a run earlier, after the mission was put to rest. The ones that didn’t go as planned always set him on edge. He considered it a failure and, for him, that wasn’t an option. There were two ways nights like this ended; fucking or fighting. He looked ready for a fight. 

"Funny, that’s how I usually feel," she muttered, her hip leaning against the back of the couch and her arms crossed over her chest defensively.

"The hell’s that s’pose to mean?" he asked, eyes snapping at her. 

"You’re the one who started this fight, Barnes. You tell me," she sighed. 

"If you’re so damn sick of me, why’re you still here, huh?" He waved a hand toward the door. "Nobody’s stoppin’ you. You can leave anytime." 

"I never said anything about leaving. I’m just tired." She shook her head. "I get that you’re upset that you guys lost whatever guy it was you were tracking, but I can’t help you with that. I asked if you were okay, I asked if you wanted time alone, I asked if you were hungry or tired or if you wanted me to call Steve or Sam. What more do you want?" she said, her voice slowly climbing. 

A muscle ticked in his jaw. “I wanna stop feelin’ like this. Like I’m a fuck up, a failure, like any minute now, Pierce is gonna come in here and tell me that I’ve disappointed him. And I know it doesn’t make sense, I know that, but it doesn’t stop.” He ground his teeth together. “I wanna stop pushin’ you away every time you get close. I’m sick and tired of fighting with you because I’m so damn scared that you’re gonna get sick of me and all this  _shit_  in my head that I can’t get straight. But you don’t leave, Darcy. I push you and you stick around and I don’t  _get_ it. I…” He blew out a heavy breath, his shoulders slumping. “Everybody always wants something from me and I can’t figure out what you want. So just  _tell_ me.” 

Darcy swallowed tightly, staring at him across the room, tears swimming in his eyes, his hands hanging limply at his sides. He looked so defeated, so lost, and she hated it. She hated that he felt that way. That she hadn’t made it clear  _exactly_ what wanted. But for all that she saw him as the one who struggled to express himself in their relationship, she knew she was no shining peach in that arena either. She just thought her feelings were a lot more obvious than his.

She squirmed, biting her lip as her throat burned with emotion. “You’re such an idiot,” she muttered. 

He scoffed, an eyebrow ticking up. 

Darcy sniffled, wiping a hand under her nose. “I just want you to be happy,” she whispered, staring at him sincerely. “Doesn’t have to be with me. Even if I try really damn hard hoping it will be. But that’s it… That’s all I want for you.” She shrugged, ducking her eyes. “And maybe a haircut, but the hobo thing is starting to grow on me.” 

He was quiet for a long moment, the room filled with wilting tension and the sound of their breathing.

And then he was moving, slowly, one careful step at a time. As she raised her eyes a little, she saw his hands squeezing, fingers flexing, curling into his palm and then unfurling again.

He reached for her with his metal hand, because she’d put her foot down months ago, telling him he had to stop acting like one arm was better than the other, like one was more  _his_ than the other. His hand landed on her hip and squeezed lightly, giving her a little tug. She moved forward a step, until they were chest to chest, and his cold, metal fingers slid up under her shirt and skirted up her back, lightly stroking over her skin. Her head tipped forward, forehead resting on his chin.

“S’been a long time since I was allowed to be happy,” he said quietly. “Doesn’t mean I don’t like it. I’m just… gettin’ used to it again. To what this feels like…” His other hand came up to cup her cheek, his thumb rubbing under her eye, brushing away a stray tear. “You’re the last person I wanna hurt, Darce… S’hard to talk myself out of it when I start thinkin’ too hard.”

“About what?”

“What I could do to you…” He shook his head, his hand on her back sliding up high and curling around her ribs, pulling her in tight to him. “I’m scared that one day I’m gonna break you… and I’ll never forgive myself for it.”

Darcy slid her arms around his waist. “Maybe you won’t.”

His voice was hoarse as he choked out, “Maybe I will.”

She leaned her head back to look at him, staring searchingly into his heartbroken eyes. “And maybe you  _won’t_ ,” she said, with all the certainty of someone who loved him, who believed in him.

He swallowed thickly and bent to kiss her lips, warm and desperate and full of that intimate, complicated love for each other that they were both terrible at putting into words. He lingered at her mouth for a moment before he pressed his lips to her cheek and the corner of her eye and her forehead. Until finally, he was hugging her close, kissing the top of her head, letting out a heavy sigh against her hair.

It wasn’t perfect. They’d have to talk more, resolve things as they came, one step at a time. But it was a good night, by her estimate. Sometimes it didn’t end in fucking or fighting. Sometimes it ended with a little more hope. And that was all she could ask for.

 


	2. arm magnets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **prompt** : darcy/bucky - magnets - **anonymous** ([Tumblr](http://www.sarcasticfina.tumblr.com))

Steve is staring and Bucky sighs, tired of ignoring it. “What?” he grunts, his voice low and irritated. He’s just trying to have a cup of coffee here; this was not what he asked for this early in the morning.

Steve’s brows hike a little as he shakes his head before pausing, frowning, and then motioning toward Bucky’s arm. “Is that… a cat magnet?” 

His eyes fall down and to the left until he spots the calico cat stuck to his arm, one of its eyes closed like the son of a bitch is winking at him. It wouldn’t be the first time he found one, or the first time he flicked it off to land unceremoniously beside him. 

Steve opens his mouth again, this time with questions, but then Darcy walks into the kitchen in one of his t-shirts and with her sweatpants hanging criminally low on her hips. Her hair is tangled and her eyes are half-closed. She licks her lips, her nose scrunched up, and he hides a smile behind his mug of coffee as she mumbles about fuzzy teeth. 

She walks over to where he’s sitting and, without missing a beat, picks up the cat magnet sitting on the counter beside him, slaps it onto his arm, presses a kiss to his cheek, and steals his coffee. She walks off, looking much happier, humming to herself. 

When he looks over, Steve’s questions are replaced with a knowing grin. 

Bucky huffs and gets himself a new cup of coffee, but he’s pretty sure the fact that he doesn’t flick that stupid, winking cat off his arm this time says a lot more than he wants it to.


	3. Height Difference

Darcy frowned up at him as they stood in the communal kitchen. “Why do you have to be  _tall_?” 

He glanced down at her, an eyebrow raising. “Since when’s that a bad thing?” 

"Since I’m  _not_ tall, and I’m having a bad day, and I want to put my head on someone’s shoulder but everyone here is gigantic.” 

He sighed at her, like her bad day was interrupting his life. But then he took a seat on the couch and tipped his head at her like, “ _Well?_ " 

And who was she to pass up on that? So, she grinned at him, circling the couch and curling up next to him, dropping her head on his shoulder. He stiffened at first, because she’d purposely picked the side with his metal arm and not the other one, but slowly, when all she did was rub her cheek around to get comfortable, he relaxed, even letting his head fall to the side to lean against hers. 

"You gonna pitch a fit every time I’m too tall for you?" he wondered. 

"You wanted a cuddle just as much, Barnes. You’re not fooling anybody." 

He grumbled under his breath, but didn’t argue. 

Later, however, she realized that the height difference actually worked to his advantage, because when he wanted a cuddle, he could just wrap his arms around her and rest his chin on top of her head, which, she found, he wanted to do pretty often.

All things considered, leaning back against his chest, wrapped up in those arms, wasn’t something she was going to complain about anytime soon.


	4. "So, what else can that hand do?"

He could feel her eyes on him. If it were anybody else, he’d feel annoyed. There had been far too many people gawking at him, waiting for him to snap, to go on a rampage, to kill anybody who got too close. It made the tiny hairs on the back of his neck raise, the way their eyes followed him, the stench of fear that seeped from their pores.

He didn’t like being watched. He was used to blending it, going unnoticed, as invisible as a ghost in order to get a job done. But he wasn’t on a job. There were no more jobs, only recovery, so he stayed in Stark Tower, avoiding people as much as possible, only there she was,  _again_ , watching him, and it wasn’t with fear or paranoia.

"So, what else can that hand do?" she finally asked, crossing the room and hopping up on the kitchen counter, well within reach. Most people kept more than enough space between him and them, but not her. Sometimes he thought she was testing him, seeing how close she could get, searching for a boundary that he never put up. Maybe it was him who was testing her, letting her get close, seeing how far she’d take it, waiting for that moment when she realized she was a lamb and he was a wolf.

He glanced down at his hand, he knew she meant the metal one, and he wanted to tell her it killed people. Choked them out with such efficiency that he could feel their bones and skin give under his fingers. Fired guns without missing a beat, wielded knives with such ease that they were an extension of self. And usually, that was exactly what he would say, sometimes just to see the fear fill their eyes, to make Steve flinch, to make sure they knew that just because he was working on getting better, didn’t mean he hadn’t been what he was. Death personified.

But he didn’t say that. Instead, he turned his head, looking up at her as his hair fell loose from behind his ear and crossed over his eye. He stared at her searchingly, all full lips and bright blue eyes and not a lick of fear in her. It was a probably a mistake on her part, to trust him. Or maybe the mistake was on his part, for liking it so much.

"What d’you want it to do?" he asked, his voice pitched low, something warm stirring his gut. 

And when her lips turned up in a smirk, he knew he said the right thing. He knew fear wasn’t what he wanted to evoke in her. 

She hopped down from the counter and circled around his back. “Let’s find out,” she suggested, dragging a finger down the length of his arm before she walked off, hips swaying. 

And he followed, a grin tugging at his lips. 


	5. "You just happened to forget to mention that you're filthy rich."

Sometimes he buys her stuff. He doesn't even tell her, really, she just suddenly realizes that she has things that she did not have before.

Kick ass top of the line coffee maker? Surprise. It's on her counter.

Comfiest couch she's ever sat on her life? The lumpy one was tossed out and the new one was brought in when she was at work. She didn't notice the switch for three whole days, until she realized she didn't roll off of it when she was napping, because it was big enough to fit three of her across the cushions.

Out of groceries because two juiced up super-soldiers and an alien God frequently ate her out of house and home? No big, the fridge was miraculously filled up to overflowing at the drop of a hat.

Maybe if she lived at Stark Tower, she wouldn't find these things odd. Jane had mentioned more than once that sometimes Tony just splurged on the team, buying them excessive, even unnecessary things, to show his appreciation for them without having to verbalize it. Only she didn't live at Stark Tower and it wasn't Stark doing this for her. She lived in a tiny little apartment that she could just barely afford, with a suspicious stain in the corner of her bedroom ceiling that she was almost totally sure was mold. This was not something that surprised her; it was New York, she spent most of her money on paying back student loans, and a wealthy girl was not she. 

She let it slide for a while, the suspiciously over-the-top giftage that was generally things she liked or wanted or had even mentioned in passing. Only she wasn't mentioning them because she wanted Bucky to buy it for her. She might be broke, but that didn't mean she expected to have him open his wallet for her in pity. And yes, sure, they were dating, for, like, over a year now, but that was what made it even weirder. He didn't  _tell_ her he was buying these things, and when she asked about them, he shrugged. That was it. 

"Hey, where'd this coffee machine come from? The only machine I've seen even half this pimped out was at Stark's,,." 

But did he give her a straight answer? No. She turned to look at him, slumped against the kitchen table, eating Cheerios and reading the newspaper like the old man he was, and he just  _shrugged_. 

And then her iPod broke and a new one appeared in her purse the next day.

"Is this brand new? How the hell are all my playlists on here? I deleted them off my laptop..." 

He looked up at her, stretching one of his arms back behind him as he came in from his morning jog. He was sweaty and his hair was tied back in a ponytail at his nape. But did he tell her where that iPod came from or how he magicked all her playlists on there? Nope. He shrugged, kissed her forehead, stripped off his shirt and kept going until he reached the bathroom for a shower. 

Always with the shrugging. 

"Did you go grocery shopping? I've never seen this thing with so much food in it at one time..." 

 _Shrug_.

"Where did that television come from? And how the fuck did you fit it through the door. It's  _huge_!" 

 _Shrug_.

"Where did you find all of these vintage records? Do you have any idea how valuable some of these are? I'm afraid to touch them. They're too beautiful. Don't breathe too hard, you'll ruin them." 

 _Shrug_. 

But this... This was too much. 

She came through the door out of breath and ready to scream. As soon as she walked in, a small bit of her was relieved because, yes, this was all her stuff. Everything that hadn't been in her apartment, which she came home to and found completely empty except for a scrap of paper with an address and a key on it. 

The giant ass television he bought six months ago hung on the wall, playing a baseball game for him and Steve, who were sitting on the overstuffed, brown couch she frequently napped on because it was criminally comfortable. All of the brand new dishes were put away in cherry wood cupboards and her beautiful, prayer-worthy coffee maker sat on a marble countertop between a retro-looking, but obviously very new and modern and  _expensive_ , fridge and stove.

Her heels clicked on hard wood floors and this... This was the kind of apartment everybody who had ever thought of living in New York probably dreamt of. With exposed red brick and a sprawling living room and a view--  _God,_  the view was  _amazing!_ And maybe, if she was a little less pissed about being moved, very suddenly and without warning or explanation, she would have taken a little longer to look around and explore her, apparently, new apartment. 

" _What_... the  _fuck_ ," she said, letting the door close behind her. 

"Hey Darcy," Steve said cheerfully, waving his fingers at her as he reached over to a mini-fridge and produced a bottle of beer for her. "Cold one?" 

She raised a finger in a sign to 'shut the fuck up for a second' and marched over to the couch, hands on her hips. "Do you want to explain to me what all of my stuff is doing here and why I came home to find my apartment completely empty?" She quickly added, "And I swear to Thor if you shrug at me, I will tear your metal arm off and beat you with it." 

Bucky's mouth ticked up on one side with amusement. 

"You... didn't know?" Steve asked, frowning. 

" _No_. No, I did  _not_  know that I was moving into a new apartment. I didn't know I was getting a new television or a new couch or a new coffee maker. I didn't know he was going to pull up and replace all of the carpeting in my old apartment when I visited my grandparents six months ago. Or that he would have the windows replaced with bulletproof glass. I didn't know  _anything_ because he doesn't tell me when he is going to do these things, he just does them." 

Steve stared at her a long moment and then looked at Bucky, who, of course,  _shrugged_.

"Why? Just, why? And  _how?_  How are you affording this? Why are you doing this?" She waved her hands around. "What. The.  _Fuck?_ "

He raised an eyebrow, sighed, and said, "You had mold." 

She blinked at him. "I...  _What?_ "

"There was mold in your bedroom."

"So you found me an apartment without mold..." she said slowly. 

"Us. I found  _us_  an apartment. And I bought it. You just need to sign a paper and it's yours, too." He pointed a thumb back toward the dining room.

Her mouth gaped. "Okay... No, back up...  _What?"_

Steve cleared his throat awkwardly and edged off the couch. "I'm going to leave you two to talk this out..." he said, before grabbing up his jacket and making for the door. Smart man, the Cap. 

Crossing her arms over her chest, Darcy circled the couch, taking a seat in the matching arm chair. 

She stared at him expectantly. 

With a frown, Bucky sat forward, grabbed up the remote and turned off the TV. He reached up to rub the back of his neck then and took a few moments to decide what to say.

She waited,  _impatiently_ , let's be real. 

"Where I grew up...  _When_ I grew up... I was poor. Dirt poor. We didn't have much of anything and we never thought we would." 

She nodded.

"But it's not like that anymore. I... I've got money, more than enough, and, I don't know... Money doesn't mean much to me, but providing for people I care about, giving them things they need or they want, I like that... Back when I was a kid, something broke, it was gone. Couldn't afford to get another one. Didn't have that kind of spare change. Now, something breaks, I can buy it for you, I can buy the  _best_ for you. So I do." 

She stared at him, her anger ebbing just a little. "But why not say anything?" 

He shrugged. "I don't know. Didn't really think it needed saying. You needed a new coffee maker. I got you a coffee maker. I... When I'm having a bad night, you stay up with me or you make me your nana's cocoa or you call Steve or Sam and you never ask for anything for it. You just do it. Figured it was the same kind of thing. You need something, I give it to you." 

Darcy's heart clenched in her chest. "You didn't need to do all of this. Yeah, I stay up with you, but that's because I love you and I know how hard it is for you." 

"Yeah, well, I love you and I wanna buy you nice things." His chin jutted out then, his lips pursed, and she recognized it for the stubborn gesture it was. 

She smiled, faintly, and rolled her eyes. "I'm not saying I don't appreciate it, because I do. Well, most of it. But this, buying a whole apartment without me, that's too much..."

He ducked his head a little, staring at the table and avoiding her gaze. 

Sighing, she stood from the chair and moved to sit beside him. "If you would've asked, I would've said we should talk about it, moving in together, and I would've been for it. But it's one of those things where we do need to talk." 

"We pretty much lived together at your last place, I just wasn't paying rent." 

Admittedly, that was mostly true, but still. "Yes, and you weren't on the lease. So it was still  _my_ place, whereas this is  _our_ place. And things come with that. Really important conversations like, do we plan on being together for so long that it's okay that we own a place together? Because that's a big one. We've been together a year and I love you but our lives are really weird and difficult and you sneakily give me gifts to show how much you care instead of talking to me, so this, yeah, this we needed to talk about." 

He frowned, his fingers balling up into his fists. "I didn't want you to say no... And I didn't want you living in that shit hole anymore. There were rats in the building and mold on the ceiling and you deserve better than that," he said, his voice low, but heavy with sincerity. 

Darcy reached for him, stroking his hair back and behind an ear. "You're right, it sucked, but it was what I could afford. See, I, unlike you, could not afford to just go out and buy a new apartment in a nice part of town. You just happened to forget to mention that you're filthy rich." 

"I didn't want it to matter." 

"And it doesn't, or it wouldn't, if we just talked about it. Then it'd just be one more thing about you. But this is like, oh, whoops, by the way, I might buy you a yacht next month just for the hell of it. Which is a little crazy. Also, I get sea sick, so, y'know,  _don't_." 

His lips twitched again and he leaned back into the couch, turning his head to look at her. "I should'a talked to you," he finally admitted. "I'm not always good with... talking. But I should've. I just... wanted to take care of you."

"And you do." She leaned back with him, reaching for his hand, her fingers sliding between his. "Not with coffee makers or iPods or apartment. You take care of me just like I take care of you, by being there." 

He nodded. "Okay." 

"Okay." 

He raised an eyebrow. "You wanna get an apartment together? I know one in a good neighborhood."

"Do you?" she asked, grinning. 

"Mmhmm..." He lifted her hand up and kissed her wrist. "I don't know about you, but I'm in this for the long haul, so... Whattya say?" 

Darcy stared him square in the eye and  _shrugged_.


	6. 2nd trimester horny stage

Darcy took him by the wrist and led him out of the kitchen and toward the bedroom. 

"The hell, Darce, I was makin’ coffee…" Bucky complained.

"Coffee after. Sex now," she ordered, marching them right to the bed before she turned and shoved him back onto the mattress. "Listen, I’m horny. Like, I can’t get sex off my brain horny, and I need you to do something about it, because I can’t walk around like this. And you, you’re acting like a nun all of a sudden. Like I rolled over and reached for you and you rolled your ass right out of bed. Not cool. I think you landed on one of my shoes." 

"I did. Why the hell did you have heels laying around? Should you be walking around in heels when you’re so…" 

"Do not say ‘big’ right now, I swear to Thor. If ‘big’ comes out of your mouth, I don’t care how horny I am, I will bitchslap you." 

He pursed his lips. 

"And I had heels out because I felt like trying to wedge my abnormally bloated feet into them and crying. That’s why. Now stop questioning my wardrobe choices and sex me up." She pointed at her stomach and told him, "The whole reason this is happening is because you can’t keep it in your pants and treat every available surface like an invitation for sex.  _So?_ ”

She reached for him, but he suddenly leaned back, and, without warning, was crab-crawling his way over the bed.

"What the hell are you doing?" she demanded, her brow furrowed. 

"Listen, I want to fuck you probably more than you want to fuck me. But I’m not exactly gentle, and I’m a little freaked out that if we do this, I’m gonna accidentally hurt you or Junior. So this,  _sex_ , is not happening.” 

Darcy’s eyes narrowed. “Are you seriously threatening to cut me off?”

"It’s not a threat. It’s a decision I already made." He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the dresser, trying, she imagined, to look stern. 

Darcy stared at him a long moment and then, without warning, sniffled. 

Bucky went still, his eyes widening. “Darce?” 

She drew in a shaky breath, her lips trembling and her shoulders shaking. 

"Shit, Darcy, don’t cry…" He fidgeted, his feet shifting. He moved forward hesitantly. "Is it the hormones? You want chocolate?"

"I want  _sex_ ,” she cried. “And my stupid husband won’t give me any.” 

He sighed, rolling his eyes up. “Your stupid husband is trying to look out for you.” 

"No, he’s being a dumb, self-conscious jerk. Yeah right you’re going to hurt me." 

"I  _could_. I  _could_ hurt you and that scares the  _shit_ outta me, all right?” He balled his hand up into a fist and banged it against his leg, a muscle ticking in his jaw. Shaking his head, he told her, “I know I’m gentle with you. I know you don’t look at me and see what I was. You don’t see the guy who killed people. But Darcy, I was  _made_  to kill. I was made to  _hurt_. I was not made for holding you or this baby. And I won’t risk you, either of you, for  _anything_.” His voice  _shook_ with the force of his emotion and she stared at him, her eyes damp. 

"When are you going to get the fact that you aren’t him anymore?" she wondered. "They gave you that arm to make you a weapon, but that’s not what it is anymore. Can it be used as one?  _Yeah_ , of course, but so can every human arm, too. That’s the same arm you hug me with and you let me put cat magnets on and the arm that wraps around me every night while we’re sleeping. I’m not afraid of you or what you can do and I’m sure as hell not afraid that you’ll hurt me or this baby. And if that’s what’s really bothering you, then you need to talk about it, you need to flesh this whole thing out, with me or Steve or Sam, because you can’t hide forever. You can’t  _not_ hold me or this baby just because you’re afraid of what might happen. ‘Cause I  _know_ what will happen, and it is  _nothing_ like whatever horror movie you’re thinking of.” 

He stared at her, looking less certain and a little more open. But he didn’t reach for her, instead seeming a little lost as he swallowed tightly and flexed his fingers nervously.

She walked toward him, slowly, letting him acclimate, and then she reached out, her hands falling to his hips. “We’ll go slow,” she murmured, rubbing her fingers up his sides soothingly, lightly scratching at his skin. “We’ll go as slow as you want until you’re sure that you’re okay. But don’t push me away, all right? Don’t  _ever_  push me away.” 

She slid her arms around his waist and turned her head, pressing a cheek to his heart, and she just held him. Slowly, his arms came up to wrap around her, skimming down her back and rubbing in circles. She felt his body relax, every muscle uncoiling slowly. He rested his chin atop her head and he reached down with his left hand, the cool metal of his fingers sliding over her rounded belly. It wasn’t sex, but it important, and it was a step they needed to take. And as long as he was willing to take those steps, she was happy.


	7. their own brand of sign language

Steve frowned, looking between the two of them as they seemed to make more and more absurd hand gestures to one another from across the room. They’d been doing this for nearly ten minutes; not one word spoken, but a whole lot of weird hand movements that made absolutely no sense.

He cleared his throat, drawing their attention, and raised an eyebrow. “What are you doing?” 

They blinked at him, as if only now noticing that he was there with them, sitting on the couch beside Bucky.

"He wants coffee," Darcy said, from where she stood in the kitchen, stirring her own cup. "And that quickly devolved into an argument about how shitty black coffee tastes and that his purist ways of avoiding sugar and cream mean he should get off his lazy ass and get his own coffee." 

"All you have to do is pour it in a cup. You should be thanking me for not making it more complicated, with shots of espresso and caramel or whatever that shit is you like," Bucky muttered, snorting to himself. 

"Maybe I wouldn’t mind it if you didn’t always insult my coffee making skills." 

He shrugged. “It’s not strong enough.” 

"Wait, when did he insult you?" Steve wondered, brow furrowed. 

"Just before you interrupted us." 

Steve blinked. “How was anything you were doing a conversation…?” 

"We came up with a system, back when he first got here, when he was mute and strange. And now he speaks and is still strange." 

"Love you too, doll," he muttered. 

"You… developed an entire unspoken language through gestures  _just_  to talk to him?” Steve asked. 

"I…" Darcy paused, her lips pursed, and turned her eyes away, irritated at his logic. "Whatever, I’m still not getting him coffee." 

Slunk down on the couch, Bucky grinned for a second, looking absurdly proud.  And then he hopped up and circled around, making his way into the kitchen. He poured himself a mug of coffee and moved to stand beside her, leaning down and resting his elbows on the counter while he took a long sip and stared up at her, trying to catch her eye.

Steve watched as she slowly turned her head to see him and Bucky wordlessly made a gesture, one that pulled a smile out of her and a laugh she couldn’t muffle. After that, it seemed all was forgiven.

Steve had no idea what they were saying, but he did know that Bucky smiled a helluva lot more when Darcy Lewis was involved.


	8. cheer up

From the moment he’d met her, she’d been loud. She had a snarky comment for everything, she rarely adhered to the rules, she was obstinate, rude, and downright exasperating. But she was also the most independent person he’d ever known. Or, at least that he could remember knowing. 

Which was why he didn’t like what was happening.

She was being quiet. 

She didn’t even have her music on, and she  _always_ had her music on. Even when she wasn’t listening to it, she had her ear buds hanging down her shoulders, some song or another playing faintly. 

But for the last few days, she’d been abnormally un-Darcy-like, and it was starting to get on his nerves. 

"What’s wrong with you?" 

She startled, nearly falling out of the wheely chair she was leaned back in, her feet on top of Dr. Foster’s desk. 

Her head swiveled toward him. “Jesus Christ, Barnes. Wear a bell.” 

He frowned at her. “You’re moping. It’s weird.” 

"I’m not  _moping_. I’m… Whatever, I’m not moping.” She frowned at him, dropping her feet to the floor and turning her chair. “What’re you doing down here anyway? Shouldn’t you be beating your angst out on a bag at the gym? That’s what Steve does.” 

“‘m not Steve,” he muttered. 

She snorted. “Yeah, don’t worry, I don’t think anybody missed that memo.” 

He glowered. “The hell’s that suppose to mean?” 

"That you and Steve are completely different people. He’s apple pie, you’re blackberry crumble. He’s coffee with too much sugar and you’re straight black and bitter. He’s the righteous hand of justice and you’re the hand that has to get down and dirty when other people want to keep theirs clean but still want to come out on top. He’s the sun, you’re the moon. Ying, yang. Dark, light. Yadda, yadda, yadda." 

He blinked at her. “Still doesn’t tell me why you’re moping.” 

"You never told me why you’re in the lab," she snarked back, arms crossing over her chest. 

He sighed, shifting his feet uncomfortably. “You’re being quiet. It’s… distracting.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Shouldn’t it be the other way around? I’m loud, obnoxious,  _that_ should be distracting.”

"No, I’m used to that. I’m used to  _you_. And I… prefer it. So go back to doing that.” 

Her lips turned up faintly at the corner. “Are you telling me you miss me?” She cocked her head. “I haven’t been hanging around in the communal kitchen much, huh? Bugging you while you’re trying to read your boring-ass history books or making you watch shitty reality TV.” 

He frowned. “Forget it. I take it back. Go back to moping.” He turned on his heel to leave, but only made it to the door. 

"There’s a Real Housewives marathon on tonight…" 

He looked back at her over his shoulder. 

"C’mon, Bucky, I know it’s your crack…" She grinned at him cajolingly. "I’ll make you cocoa and braid your hair." 

He rolled his eyes and walked off, but he could still hear her laughter following him, and he smiled to himself.


	9. first kiss in the rain

"You’re sure we shouldn’t pick up the pace? Wouldn’t want you to rust up," she teased, mouth curved up on one side. 

She’d been making jokes about his arm all night. Calling him tin man, offering to oil up the joint so it doesn’t squeak, asking him if he polishes it every night before bed. It probably should have annoyed him, but that was just…  _Darcy_. Where everyone else tiptoed around him, she preferred to walk the tightrope and see what happened. She was unfettered, dancing perilously closer to every edge, too curious for her own good. And he knew he shouldn’t, he knew he should be the smart one here and keep her from getting too close, but he liked her.

He liked her loud personality and the way she sidled up close to him to make up for others hurrying out of his way. He liked how she always stood on his left, hooking her arm with his, squeezing his hand, never hesitating to get close to his cybernetic arm. He liked how she baked for him when he was in a bad mood and made him a playlist of music he liked, from his time, to help him come down after a mission. He liked the way she laughed and how she was always,  _always_ ready to dance, happily grabbing him by the hand and pulling him along with her. He liked her. All of her. 

So while they were on their way back to the tower from dinner, some hole in the wall that had decent food and an open mic she both loved and criticized, he took a chance as they were moving down the sidewalk toward Stark Tower, rain pouring down on them and soaking them in seconds. She’d taken his hand three blocks back, their fingers knit together; he used it to pull her in close, turning her to face him. 

She blinked up at him, rain falling in her eyes, and she opened her mouth, no doubt to throw another of her quicky, not-as-clever-as-she-thought-they-were quips at him. But he didn’t let her this time, instead he leaned in, his free arm wrapping around her waist, and his mouth slanted over hers. Her lips were lush, full, soft under the firm pressure of his own.

Her breath hitched and she opened her eyes, looking up at him, brow furrowed very slightly. And he wondered if maybe he’d made a tactical error; if maybe she’d only been trying to be friendly and didn’t want it going any further than that. But then she pushed up on her tip toes, wrapped a hand around the nape of his neck, gently kneading beneath his hair, and she sucked on his upper lip, her brow smoothing out and her big blue eyes gazing up at him with something much,  _much_ different from friendship. 

She pressed in close, their soaked clothes squleching between them, and she smiled as he nipped at her bottom lip. “Took you long enough,” she murmured.


	10. didn't know they were dating

Bucky was anxious. They’d been overseas for two weeks now and he was eager to get home and leave mission-mode for a while.

For the most part, things were wrapped up. On the flight in, he was finishing up his paperwork, pen tapping on the table as he frowned down at the stack in front of him. 

Steve yawned from his seat beside him. “Getting a headstart?” he asked. 

He shook his head minutely. “Finishing it. Darcy promised she’d make tacos if I got all my paperwork in as soon as I got home. Coulson’s been bitching.” 

"Tacos?"

He hummed, scratching in an answer to one of the questions. “And some TV show she likes. She doesn’t watch it without me, so we’ve got a few episodes to catch up on.” 

"Really?" Steve’s voice was wry, his mouth tipped up in amusement. 

Distracted, Bucky didn’t notice. But when they set down back at HQ, he was happy to drop his paperwork off and catch the elevator up to Darcy’s apartment, leaving the others in the dust. 

"Where’s he going in a hurry?" Clint wondered curiously. 

"Darcy," Steve answered simply. 

Nodding knowingly, he walked off to catch up with Natasha. 

 

* * *

 

"Hey, Jane, I’m heading out. I put a new pot of coffee on, Poptarts are by the toaster, and if you’re still in here when I get back in a few hours, I’ll use the spray bottle on you." 

Jane scowled; she hated the spray bottle. “Wait, where are you going?” she wondered, turning away from her desk of paperwork to see Darcy gathering up her things. 

"Bucky’s taking me dancing. He found this retro dance hall that only plays oldies. I’m gonna curl my hair and everything." She raised a hand in goodbye. "See ya. Try not to fall into a science-coma while I’m gone." 

Jane rolled her eyes as she watched her go. “Science trumps boyfriend any day, especially when said boyfriend is an assassin from the 40s,” she muttered to herself. 

Distantly, however, she wondered when Thor was set to visit again. Science was her be all, end all, but it didn’t cuddle her at night. 

* * *

 

Bruce raised a curious eyebrow as he noticed the mess of magnets stuck to Bucky’s arm. “If Tony were here, I’m sure he’d make a joke about walking too close to the fridge,” he said, reaching up to adjust his glasses.

Bucky looked down at his arm, rolling his eyes and letting out a quiet snort. He peeled one of the cat magnets off and shook his head at it. “She likes to see how many she can stick to me before I wake up…” 

Bruce nodded understandingly. “Does it bother you? Her being around you while you’re asleep.” 

Bucky’s lips pursed thoughtfully. “It did at first. I’d fall asleep on the couch and wake up, paranoid, ready to fight. I don’t know what I’ll be like when that happens; if I might just snap… I tried telling her she shouldn’t hang around when that happens, but…” He shrugged. “She never listens.” 

He hummed. “But you adapted… That is, you’ve grown comfortable with her being there?” 

Bucky nodded faintly. “Sometimes it’s comforting. Knowing she won’t leave. She takes precautions, though. And I know JARVIS’ll call somebody in if anything happens.” 

"You must trust her a lot," Bruce mused. 

Bucky half-smiled, offering no verbal response. But the evidence spoke for itself.

* * *

 

Natasha was panting, sweat beading on her skin, but she set her mouth in a frown. They’d been sparring for more than an hour, but it still felt sloppy, like he was letting her win, and even then, only barely. She didn’t like it when an opponent held back. It was insulting.

"Again," she told him. 

Bucky shook his head, grabbing up a towel to drag over his face. “It’s almost one. I still need to shower.”

Natasha cocked her head to one side, her eyes narrowed. “One… You mean, when Darcy takes her lunch.” 

He took a long drag from his water bottle. “We’ve only got an hour before Foster starts getting twitchy.” 

"And you do this…  _every_  lunch?” 

He shrugged. “I don’t like the cafeteria. Too many people. Too loud. So I take her out to eat.”

Natasha hummed. 

"What?" he asked, grabbing up his gym bag. 

She shook her head faintly. “Darcy is good for you,” she said simply. 

His brow furrowed. “All right.” He lingered for a moment, as if he wanted to ask what she meant, but instead he turned on his heel and made his way to the locker room. 

Later, Natasha would see them coming back in from lunch, his hand settled low on Darcy’s back while she waved her hands around, saying something to him that made him laugh. 

Yes, she was very good for him. 

* * *

 

Bucky was in a bad mood. Frowning and fidgeting, his brow furrowed tightly. 

"What’s got you so wound up, Tin Man?" Tony wondered. 

He shrugged, but he’d been in a foul mood all morning and it was putting Steve on edge, wondering the same thing. 

Clint snickered down the line and when everyone turned in his direction expectantly, he said, “Darcy’s got a date. Some guy in accounting asked her out yesterday. Carl Something.” 

Steve blinked and then looked over at Bucky. “I thought you and she were…” He waved a hand. “Aren’t you?” 

"Aren’t we what?" he asked, his lip curled in a sneer. 

"Boning. Dating. Friends with benefits. Halfway to the altar. Anything along those lines," Tony piped up, not the least bit ashamed. 

Steve shook his head, sighing. “Not to put too fine a point on it, but yeah, I thought you and Darcy were seeing each other.” 

"What?" Bucky forced out a stilted laugh. " _No_. We’re friends.” 

"Friends don’t get jealous when friends go on dates. They also don’t threaten said dates with bodily violence. Unless this is an assassin thing…" Tony turned to Natasha expectantly. "You’re friends with Top Heavy. Did you get jeal—"

"Позвони ей, что снова, и я удалить селезенку и сделать вы едите его," Bucky interrupted, baring his teeth. 

Steve choked.

"What? What’d he say?" Tony’s eyes narrowed. "Was it a threat? JARVIS, translate." 

"I believe Agent Barnes threatened to make you eat your own spleen if you made damaging remarks about Miss Darcy again, sir." 

Tony blinked and then turned to look at the former HYDRA assassin, who merely raised an eyebrow back. “You see, friends wouldn’t threaten their teammates, rude or not. Where’s the loyalty?” 

"As much as I don’t agree with his methods, Tony  _does_  have a point…” Steve stared at Bucky searchingly. “Are you sure you don’t have feelings for Darcy? Because… There’s a reason we all thought you were dating.” 

He frowned, casting his gaze around the room. Natasha nodded at him, short and simple. Clint raised a mug of coffee in confirmation. Bruce offered a faint shrug. And Tony merely smirked.

He opened his mouth to argue with them, to tell them all the ways his and Darcy’s friendship was purely platonic. But then he thought back on their time together over the last year. He remembered all the days he spent dozing off with his head in her lap. All the nights she dragged him into playing Scrabble or watching some TV show she deemed a ‘cult classic.’ He thought about how he reached for her hand whenever they walked down the sidewalk together and how, as soon as he got back from missions, hers was the first face he wanted to see. He thought about the way she laughed and how good she felt under his arm and how her hair always smelled like raspberries. And…

“ _Shit_ ,” he muttered. 

* * *

 

Darcy was not a happy camper. Jeff, or Gary?, was not wowing her. Oh, he was nice and friendly and he didn’t argue with her about splitting the bill down the middle. He did normal things (ie.  _not_  assassin-y things) and he lived a pretty basic life, for someone who worked for a shady government agency.

Sure, SHIELD was on the up-and-up now, but they thought they were last time, too, so she wasn’t assuming anything. But Jeff (seriously, was it Jerry?) seemed like an all right dude. He didn’t make obscure references to think that happened in the 30’s and he’d never tried to kill Nick Fury, so she supposed those were in the win column… 

Only going on a date with him felt weird. Like she kept turning her head, expecting Bucky to be there, so she could make weird expressions at him whenever she got bored of one of Jeff/Gary/Jerry’s stories. But he wasn’t, and she should probably stop looking for other men when on a date with a perfectly cool guy.

Cool was stretching it, actually. Jeff was pretty straight-laced, like how she imagined most people thought Coulson was before they found out he could probably kill them with his pinkie and smile as he did it, and then go home to watch Supernanny re-runs like it was a normal day at the office. Except she didn’t think Jeff did that kind of thing, and she wasn’t sure when that became a requirement of a boyfriend. Not the Supernanny thing, mostly the kill-them-with-a-pinkie-finger thing. Which led her right back to Bucky. She wondered what he was doing. It was Thursday, which was usually their pasta night.

The date ended with a whimper. Jeff/Gary/Jerry kissed her cheek and told her he hoped they could get together again sometime. She smiled, made no promises, waved goodbye, and let herself into her apartment, kicking her shoes off as she went. She wondered if Bucky was still up; dinner was nowhere near filling enough and she was thinking pizza and beer for a nightcap. 

When she turned the light on as she entered her living room, she had a mini-heart-attack. 

"Jesus Christ, what the hell are you doing sitting around in the dark?" she wondered, stomping her foot. "You’re lucky I didn’t have time to get my taser out."

He stared at her, unblinking, and she frowned. 

"Are you okay?" 

He glanced away then, his brow furrowed. “How was your date?” 

"Eh. Mostly a bust." 

"Really? Carl in Accounting didn’t sweep you off your feet?" he asked, his voice sarcastic. 

"Carl? His name was  _Carl?_ " She snorted, rolling her eyes at herself. "Well, I guess it’s a good thing I never used his name. Talk about embarrassing. For him, not for me. I have no shame."

Bucky stared at her, pushing up from his seat on the arm chair, and walked toward her slowly. “What was wrong with the date?” 

"Hm?" She raised an eyebrow. "I don’t know. He was… nice, funny, smart. I just… It didn’t click. He was too cookie-cutter." She shrugged, turning on her heel and starting for the kitchen. "You wanna beer? I’m gonna order pizza. I thought we could hang out, veg, maybe get you to braid my hair. I like when it’s all curly in the morning." 

He followed after her silently, taking the beer she offered to him before she dug around in the drawer by the stove for the take-out menus. 

"If you were seeing someone, what would you wanna do with ‘em?" 

She glanced over at him, frowning. “What do you mean?” 

"I mean, what would you  _do_? Lunch dates, dinner dates, dancing, what?” 

"Sure. All of that. And we’d talk and watch movies and cuddle and have amazing monkey sex, because duh." Her nose wrinkled. "And I’m sure Gary could do all of that." 

"Carl," he corrected.

"Whatever," she dismissed. "But I didn’t want to be the one he was doing it with. So…" She shrugged.

Bucky stared at her searchingly. “Who do you want to do it with?” 

Her head tipped, mouth falling open to answer that she had no idea, and then she paused. 

Most days, so long as he wasn’t out on a mission, she had lunch with Bucky. He didn’t like how crowded the cafeteria could get, or having so many people at his back, so they found themselves sampling the local restaurants, a little more low key and fitting with his need to have an eye on everybody and all the exits. Dinner was a little different. They usually cooked for each other or together, and then they’d hunker down in the living room, watching Netflix while they ate. When it came to dancing, she’d had her club days and she still enjoyed going out once in a while, but now she was finding she enjoyed the swing dancing Bucky liked to take her out for. He was good at it and he always looked so much more relaxed when they were moving around a dance floor together, like a little piece of his past could still fit in the future. As for cuddling, she wouldn’t say she was short on it. Bucky was affectionate and she liked that. She liked that he didn’t mind her wedged under his arm or pressed up to his side on the couch. She liked how easy and comfortable it was for them to hold each other. In fact, minus the sex, she had everything she wanted in Bucky. 

Which hit her hard and abruptly between the eyes. 

“ _Fuck_.” 

He let out a faint laugh, a snort mostly, and just raised his eyebrows at her knowingly. 

"Are we…? Have we been…?"

He shrugged. “If we are, we’re missing the best part.” 

"Yeah, and what’s that?" 

He stepped up close to her, his humor fading, and his hands found the curves of her hips, tugging her in until she had to tip her head up a little just to see him. And then he kissed her. Soft at first, tentative, searching, until she opened her lips and wrapped a hand around his neck. Then it wasn’t so unsure, it was absolutely certain. He kissed her like he’d been searching for her mouth all his life, and she returned the sentiment. 

Beer and pizza forgotten, they stumbled out of the kitchen and back into the living room, falling onto the couch. The same couch they’d cuddled on countless times before, only this time there was a lot less clothes and a lot more touching and a whole hell of a lot more feelings.

And it felt  _right_. In all the ways that Jerry hadn’t felt right, Bucky did. Maybe he wasn’t the most sensible choice of partner (did she mention the assassin thing?), but sensible or not, it worked.

For  _them_ , it worked.


	11. Assassination Attempt

Darcy tackles him a split second before the glass shatters, a bullet lodged in the far wall, meant for but missing him. 

Bucky’s wide-eyed, staring up at her, sprawled on top of him and panting a little, more with shock than exertion. 

He blinks once, then twice, and then instinct kicks in. He rolls them over and shoves up to his knees, grabbing her hand and dragging her out of the room, ducked low to avoid the open expanse of window that make them easy pickings. 

He pulls her out of the break room and into the hall, the door closing behind him, and vaguely hears JARVIS informing them that he alerted the rest of the Avengers. 

"What the  _hell!?_ " Darcy exclaims. "I thought Stark had bulletproof glass. He builds this giant penis monument and he can’t afford bulletproof glass?! Do you assholes have any idea how many people are going to try to pick you off? Who puts bay  _fucking_  windows in a building where extremely important people live, huh?  _Who?_ " 

Bucky stares at her as she paces, wringing her hands nervously. She’s still ranting, going on and on about how stupid it is that nobody thought about how many enemies they’d have. And that their egos must have been supersized along with their muscles to think nobody would ever take a chance on sharpshooting them. She’s worried and frazzled and even knowing that, he can’t help but think the flush of her cheeks is pretty and her hair looks abnormally soft.

He grabs her arm while she’s mid-pace, pulls her in and stares at her, confused. “You saved my life,” he says, like it makes no sense. Like  _she_ makes no sense.

"I… You…" She struggles for something to say before finally just  _shrugging_. 

"What’d you see? The red laser? Flash in the corner of your eye? What made you react?" he asks, squeezing her arm a little tighter. 

"I don’t know. A flash, I guess. I just… Something flickered out of the corner of my eye and I felt something, in my gut, and my nana always said to trust my gut, so I just…  _reacted_.” 

He stares at her, wanting more,  _needing_ more. “You have any idea how risky that was?” His teeth grind on the question. “You don’t lunge at assassins, former or not. And you sure as  _fuck_  don’t put yourself in the line of fire, not to save me.” 

She glares then and rears her head back, pulling her arm free of his hand. “If I wanna risk my life for your sorry ass, I will. My life, my choice.” 

He huffs out an annoyed breath, wanting to shake sense into her, to tell her all the reasons she should never go around risking herself for him. But he doesn’t. Because this is Darcy. Do whatever she wants, say whatever she wants,  _Darcy_. And she’s been skirting the rules since he met her, doing the exact opposite of every other person that knows him and what he’s done; they were smart enough to stay clear. 

He opens his mouth, to say what, he’s not sure, but then he hears the elevator open down the hall, and he knows the team is coming. Maybe part of him still wants to yeat her, to make sure she knows she shouldn’t pull that shit again, that he’s not worth it. But then her hand is over his mouth and she looks him square in the eye and says, “Don’t be ass. Just say thank you.” 

She waits a moment, lingering, her hand soft and warm against his lips, and he watches her face as she realizes how close she is to him. But she doesn’t flinch, she doesn’t go white with regret, she just slowly draws her hand back, like she wishes she didn’t have to. 

There’s a lot he can say, a lot he’ll probably say later, but right then, he murmurs, “Thank you.” 

And she smiles at him, like it’s a breakthrough somehow. “You’re welcome.”

After that, it’s chaos, the team close in on them, asking questions. Steve looks worried, and he knows it’ll all get pushed to the back burner until they figure out the who and the why. With an enemy list as long as his, it might take a while. But when it’s done, when he doesn’t have someone trying to pick him off, he plans to revisit this. ‘Cause Darcy might be a lot of things, she might do and say things that other people wouldn’t, but he doesn’t peg her as the type to jump in front of a bullet for someone, not without a really good reason. 

He listens to Steve with half an ear as he worries and rants, but his eyes are on Darcy as she leaves them to their work. She smiles at him before she goes, and it might just be the one time an attempt on his life leads to something amazing. 


	12. Broken Leg

Darcy winced when she heard a deep, exasperated sigh, and turned her head to see Bucky staring at her from down the hallway, an eyebrow raised. 

"This… isn’t what it looks like…?" she tried. 

"Darce, you’re supposed to be resting," he told her, walking down the hall toward her. "You broke your damn leg." 

"Yeah, and I’ve been resting for  _ages_. Do you have any idea how bored I am? I thought the ultimate dream would be laying in bed for days with nothing but Netflix for company, and you know what? It was, for the first day, but now I’m _sick_  of it. I’ve watched every episode of Orange is the New Black,  _twice_ , and I marathoned Orphan Black, and now I know three things. 1) I would make some seriously kick-ass shivs. 2) Having a twin is not as cool as Mary Kate and Ashley made it look like when I was a kid. And 3) bed sores hurt.” 

He rolled his eyes. “Darcy, it’s been three days, you don’t have bed sores.” 

"I  _could_. You don’t know. You haven’t seen me naked in three days. And that’s another thing! I miss sex! I’m a healthy twenty-seven year old woman with an incredibly hot ex-assassin sharing my bed. I should not be having a drought right now.” 

He snorted. “I saw you naked this morning when I helped you into the shower. You’re sore because you have a broken damn leg and keep forgetting to take your pain medication. You want an orgasm, I’ll give you a damn orgasm. But no more sneaking around. You wanna get outta the apartment, I’ll get the wheelchair or your crutches, but you can’t hop around here. You’re gonna hurt yourself.” 

Sighing, she turned, dropping her forehead to his chest and groaning. “Why’d you let me crawl up into an air vent anyway?” 

"Not my fault. Blame Barton."

"Stupid Birdbrain," she muttered. "Making it look so easy."

He chuckled under his breath and shook his head, wrapping his arms around her, rubbing circles on her back and resting his chin on top of her head. “C’mon… I’ll give you a massage and make you something to eat so you can take your pain meds.” 

"And an orgasm?" she asked hopefully.

“ _Two_ ,” he promised. 

"Deal." 


	13. First Meetings

"And this is one of the science labs. Doctor Foster, she’s the one, uh, asleep on her breakfast. She’s an astrophysicist."

"Shh, I only just got her down for a nap. It’s rude to wake up my scientists, Steve," Darcy said, swinging into view, all smirking lips and curly hair. She’d forgone wearing the lab coat the others wore on this floor and was instead dressed casually in jeans and a layered top. 

He smiled at her indulgently.

Darcy looked from tall, red, white, and blue to the skittish looking man beside him. “Where’d you pick up the homeless dude? Oh my God, is it bring your hobo to work day!? Because I know a few who would love to take a tour, and only one of them would use it to get closer to world domination.” 

Steve blinked at her, taking a moment to process what she’d said. “Uh,  _no_. This is Bucky. He’s… a friend of mine.”

She snorted at him. “You know, that might work if we didn’t study you and Sergeant James “Bucky” Barnes in American History. Or if I hadn’t spent entirely too much time at that museum that’s got your face plastered all over it. Props by the way, skinny-Steve was kind of adorable.” She turned, taking in Bucky once more. “You, on the other hand, look a little worse for wear. Have you eaten?” 

He glanced at Steve and then back at her, eyes narrowed skeptically. When she didn’t explain further, he shrugged. 

"Yeah, no, that’s not going to work for me. C’mon, Jane’s got another two hours of snooze time ahead of her and, if she wakes up, she’s got her head on a Poptart, so she’s covered." She waved a hand over her shoulder and walked past through the lab doors. "We’ll stop at the canteen, get you something to eat. Maybe when you’ve got a full stomach, you’ll be up for shaving, or at least showering. I’m not pointing fingers, but one of us smells like sweat and paranoia." 

Bucky stared at her a long second, and then his mouth turned up very faintly at the corner. “I was going for terror and murder, but I must’ve missed the mark.” 

She laughed. “Better luck next time.” With that, she started down the hallway, expecting them to follow. 

It wasn’t until Bucky did exactly that, that Steve let himself smile, his shoulders relaxing. Apparently introducing Bucky to Darcy was a good idea then. He hoped it stayed that way.


	14. Mixed Signals

"Y’know, Steve picked Sharon up for a date an hour ago…" Bucky said, watching her face as he sat in the corner of the couch, a beer balanced on his knee, where his pinkie occasionally picked at a hole in his jeans.

"Yeah, I know. They’re cute, right? I mean, if you don’t think about the ick factor with her being Peggy’s niece…" 

His brow furrowed. “She’s good for him, I guess…”

"So? You ready for a movie marathon, Buckstser? I’ve got so many comedies here, you’re going to bust a gut laughing, and then Fury’s gonna slap me with a bill for the medical charges, all while giving me the stink-eye… which doesn’t wander far from how he usually looks, but you know what I mean." 

He stared at her, lips pursed. “You still wanna watch the movies?” 

Confused, she turned to him from where she was kneeling in front of his television, the Blu-ray player open as she dropped a disc in. “Uh, yeah… Unless you had something else you wanted to do?” 

"No. Just… I thought… After Steve…" He reached up, tugging on his ear uncomfortably. "He’s probably not gonna be back ‘til late… If at all." 

"Okay…" she said slowly. "And that matters because…?" 

He blinked at her. “‘Cause you like Steve.” 

"What?" she laughed, her eyes widening. "No, I don’t. Well, I mean, aesthetically, sure. He’s nice to look at. And he’s a good guy. Maybe a little too good. I’ve always kinda had a thing for the bad boy type, which usually gets me in trouble. In fact, my mom would probably weep tears of joy if I told her I’d hooked Captain America. But…" Her mouth screwed up. "Yeah, no, not interested." 

He stared at her. “But this whole time… With the movies, and lunches, and you hanging out with me…” 

"Yeah…" She shook her head, confused, wondering where he was going with this. 

It hit him suddenly, something he’d never actually considered. He couldn’t let himself go down that path, not when it seemed so obvious that, in comparison to his best friend, he was broken goods. Not someone anybody signed on for willingly. So, when Darcy - gorgeous, smart, funny Darcy - started hanging around, asking him if he wanted a tutor in acclimating to the 21st century, he figured she was trying to get into Steve’s good books. And if she hung out at the apartment he and Steve shared even when Steve wasn’t around, he figured she was hoping she might see him before she left.

“Wait, so you were hanging out with me because you like  _me,_  not Steve…?”

"Wow, my game sucks if you thought I was trying to hook up with Steve this whole time. What do you think the low-cut tops and flirting was for? Shits and giggles?" 

He shrugged. “I don’t know… Make him jealous?” 

She quirked her head curiously. “And you flirted back anyway?” 

"Felt good. Even if I thought it was a show for him, getting a little attention was nice… Helped that it was someone I liked." 

Expression softening, Darcy crossed the room, taking a seat beside him on the couch. “Steve’s a good guy. Sharon’s lucky to have him. But I didn’t come here to talk about Steve or to hit on Steve or because I think Steve looks particularly good when he forgets to shave and has hobo-stubble I’d like to chew on…” She reached over and scrubbed her fingers down his cheek. “I like you. I like hanging out with you. And I definitely like flirting with you. Where that goes…” She shrugged. “We’ll figure it out as we go. If you’re up to it.” 

He stared at her searchingly, and then nodded. “Yeah.” 

She smiled. “Good.” Reaching over, she grabbed up a remote and flicked it at the TV before she turned and wiggled herself in next to him, tugging his arm up and over to rest around her shoulders. “Prepare to laugh your ass off,” she told him. 

He half-smiled down at her, relaxing as her head fell to his shoulder. It took him a few minutes, but eventually, he relaxed, letting his cheek rest against her hair. Yeah, he could do this.


	15. body issues

She doesn’t always like her curves. Most days, she’s the most confident woman he’s ever known. She’s snarky and smart and she doesn’t take shit from anybody. It was one of the reasons she caught his attention. The curves were a bonus, a familiar throwback to the old days, but her personality, wild and unapologetic, that was what hooked him. 

Still, he loves her curves. He could spends hours mapping them out with his mouth and his fingers. If he was half as talented as Steve was with a pencil, he’d spend too much of his time drawing her. The way her nose wrinkles when she’s confused or her brow furrows when she’s irritated. How her teeth dig into her lip when she’s trying not to interrupt, or when she’s turned on and she’s trying to muffle the noises building up in her throat. The way her hair looks in the morning, tangled and curly, like it went into battle while they were sleeping and came back worse for wear.

Everything about her is intoxicating, and that includes her curves. He likes the way her hips feel under his hands and under him. Every inch of her is soft where he’s hard. He’s muscle and war and metal and she’s fuzzy sweaters and indie music and whispers in the night. 

But she has her days where she just doesn’t like how she looks. He can always tell because her hands fall to her hips more, like she’s wishing she could shove them into something smaller, daintier. She scowls as she goes through her closet or her dresser, looking for a shirt that won’t stretch over her chest or won’t pop as soon as she tries to breathe. She comes home from shopping with Jane, frustrated and ranty and it’s a toss up whether she’s going to make something extra healthy for dinner or call in take-out just to spite her demons.

He tells her he loves her curves on days like that, he spends more time with her, holding her, appreciating the thighs she says are too wide and the hips that are too round and the breasts that are overflowing. But he can’t love her enough to make those feelings of not being enough go away, no matter how hard he tries.

When they’re laying next to each other and she’s having one of her days, he asks her if his arm bugs her. And she startles, like the idea makes no sense and came out of nowhere. 

"Of course not. Are you kidding? I love your arm. And not just because it can open jars no normal man could." She kisses his bicep and she hugs his arm around her and she tells him, simply, "It’s part of you." 

And he half-smiles back, because sure, he has his days too, where the arm doesn’t feel like his and he hates that it’s not flesh and bone. He wraps her up in both arms and he holds her close, his forehead pressed to hers. “Y’know when you get on yourself about how you look and I tell you you’re beautiful and you tell me to shut up?” 

She nods. 

"It’s the same thing with my arm. Your curves, everything about you, that’s  _you_ , Darcy. And I love it, every part of you. All the stuff you don’t like. I can’t make you change your mind or see you how I do, but that’s how it is.” 

She stares up at him, her nose wrinkled, and then it smooths out, slowly, and her lips turn up at the corners. “You’re a sap,” she tells him, but she kisses him anyway. 

It’s not going to solve everything. She’ll still have days where she wishes things fit differently or maybe her shape was a little easier to accommodate. But maybe they’re a little fewer. Not because he loves her, being loved doesn’t make those things go away, but because she understands why they don’t really matter. Because she looks at his cybernetic arm, used to kill and hurt and built on a history of blood, and all she sees is him. She sees who he is, the best part of him, and those matter more. If she can accept an arm built for destruction, maybe she can accept her own body, flaws and all.


	16. friends with benefits

The frantic knocking at her door dragged Darcy back to it just moments after she’d closed it. That wasn’t his style though; frantic or knocking, so it wasn’t him. When she swung the door open, she was faced with a wide-eyed, gaping Jane. 

"Hey, boss. Uh… You’re a little early. I don’t start work for another hour. As in… I haven’t showered or had my cocoa puffs. So, what’s up?" 

Jane blinked at her, her hands balled up against her chest, fingers flicking at random. “I… I thought… I mean… Was that…  _No_ …” She shook her head, brow furrowed. “Did I just see the Winter Soldier leaving your apartment…? At seven am…? With serious sex hair?”

"As opposed to how his hair is  _usually_? As in, a natural hot mess.” Darcy grinned, shrugging one shoulder. “Yeah. Thank God he came over, too. I had to have some good sex to make up for all that bad sex I’ve been having.” 

Jane was still struggling with what she’d learned. “You… had sex with the Winter Soldier.”

"Well, that wasn’t what I was calling out. It’s kind of a mouthful. We settled on Bucky. We tried James, but it didn’t feel right." She leaned forward a bit and stage-whispered, "And I was yelling it a lot, because  _oh my god_ , his  _tongue!_ ”

Jane’s nose wrinkled as she shook her head, rearing it back as if to avoid what she’d just learned. “No, just, back up… Why? I mean, well,  _what?_  Why him? Since when do you two even know each other?” 

"We met a few months ago…" Darcy turned on her heel and walked into her kitchen, searching out a clean bowl and her beloved cocoa puffs. "Steve introduced us. To be honest, he’s kind of a hermit. Bucky, not Steve. But we hang out sometimes. Watch movies, get him updated on pop culture, have insanely good sex. It’s a thing. But not like a strings-thing. He’s got enough going on in his life, he doesn’t need to add a relationship to the pile. So it works for us." 

"But what about all the bad sex?" Jane wondered curiously, joining her in the kitchen and hopping up to sit on the counter. 

"Oh, well, I decided to give actual dating a try. Like with dinner and medium expectations. A few of them weren’t bad at the date part, but they sucked at the nightcap. Truly disappointing. Like, kicked them out before the sheets got cold and then replaced them with my never-disappointing vibrator."

"And he’s… okay with that?" 

"In theory, yes. We’re not exclusive. In practice, however, I’m pretty sure we broke my bed and that’s almost totally because he felt like proving he was better than them. I didn’t bother telling him there was no contest. It was much funner his way." 

"So what now then? Are you exclusive?" Jane pursed her lips. "You realize he’s the  _Winter Soldier_ , right? Like, he’s killed people, and he’s still kind of working on his mental instability thing.”

"Mmhmm." Darcy nodded, chewing her oversized spoonful of cereal. "Which is why there’s no strings until he gets all that…" She spun her spoon around near her head, frowning when milk dripped onto her shoulder, "—figured out." 

Jane let out an exasperated sigh. “I don’t know how safe that is, Darcy…”

Darcy rolled her eyes. “You’re sexing up a guy who could probably crush you if he rolled over in his sleep. Don’t talk to me about safety, Jane. You are a twig and he is a freaking sequoia tree!”

Jane scoffed. “That is… a little exaggerated, don’t you think?”

"Look, I’m not asking for your approval of who I’m sleeping with, just like you don’t ask for mine. You asked why Bucky was here, I told you, end of story."

"Fine," Jane muttered.

"Fine."

A long pause followed before, “Do you have any extra cocoa puffs? Thor ate mine.” 

With an amused and indulgent smile, Darcy held out the box of cereal to her. 

Grabbing it happily, Jane dug out a bowl. She was pouring the milk when she asked, “So, broke the bed, huh…?” 


	17. double date night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Polyvore** : [Darcy's outfit](http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/set?id=125141166)

So, double-dating with Jane and Thor was a terrible idea. She seriously regretted agreeing to it at all. Actually, she regretted it as soon as she agreed to it. Don't get her wrong, she loved Jane and Thor. But Thor had only just returned planet-side, and maybe pushing the date up a few more days would've been a better idea. That way they had some time to get their 'I'm so glad you're back, I missed you like crazy' sex out of the way. But Jane had been adamant that they wanted to do normal couple things, which meant a double date, and since their pool of friends was small, she nominated Darcy for the honor. 

And who was Darcy to say no to a tiny, frazzled scientist with an abnormally effective puppy-dog face? So she said yes, and they agreed to meet up at Darcy’s apartment at 7, with reservations for dinner already made at Bucky's favorite place, since he'd been grumpy ever since she told him they were double-dating. She couldn't blame him; he didn't even like double-dating with Steve. Although, that might've been because Bucky wasn't much of a fan of Sharon, or that's what she got from the way he constantly glared at her and refused to say anything through every meal, answering them in nothing but half-hearted grunts. She still wasn't sure if it was a personal dislike of Sharon or a persistent worry about the safety of his best friend, but it was safe to say that they didn't go on double dates with Steve and Sharon very often. And Darcy did want them to have a healthy social life that consisted of them interacting with more people, so she thought picking his favorite restaurant might at least take the edge off. 

Only Darcy had a shitty day at work. Like, spilled coffee on herself,  _twice_ , lost some seriously important paperwork and spent  _hours_ looking for it only to find out Jane had tried filing it herself and put it in the wrong place, argued with Tony about nap-time like he was a toddler, only to have DUM-E spray her with a fire extinguisher for  _no freaking reason_ , and then had to deal with her grumpy boyfriend complaining that he didn't want to spend his first night back from a three week mission with Jane and Thor, especially if they were going to be permanently attached by the mouth all night. 

He had a point, actually. And when she made plans with Jane, Bucky was supposed to have been back from his mission three days earlier, but then something happened and he was stuck until late last night, climbing into bed beside her just before the sun made its debut. So she understood he wasn't feeling double-date night, and she agreed it sucked that Thor and Jane would probably be making eyes at each other the whole night, but Darcy didn't like to break her promises. Also, she had her best underwear picked out and she planned on making it up to him later, so he should seriously stop whining already. 

She had only just hopped out of the shower when Jane and Thor arrived and it was really just one more tick in the 'today sucks hairy balls' column. They were early. Like,  _seriously_  early. As in, Bucky was still in his sweatpants and hadn't so much as glanced at the closet to get dressed. He had a cold beer in hand and some serious 'I spent all day lazing on the couch' hair. But he let Thor and Jane in and waved them over to the living room before he joined her in the bedroom, where she was dripping water all over the place, irritated that she now had to rush. 

"Am I reading the clock wrong or is it only six?" she asked him, rubbing her hair dry with a towel. 

"It's six," Bucky told her, frowning as he pulled his shirt off and tossed it toward the laundry basket. "I'm gonna grab a shower and then, I don't know... Our reservations aren't 'til 7:30."

Darcy nodded, letting out a frustrated huff, and turned around to get dressed. She had one of her favorite blue dresses already picked out and her jewelry laid out on her dresser, alongside a bottle of her best perfume. Usually, Darcy enjoyed the 'getting ready' part of a date. She could take her time, test her lipsticks, try out different hairstyles and test each of her shoes, eventually returning to the first pair she picked but needing to be sure anyway. But now, with Jane and Thor sitting in her living room, she felt like the clock had already run out. So, hastily, she got dressed, spritzed on her perfume, and fiddled with her hair. She was in the middle of putting her hair up into something passable, her lips holding a number of bobby pins when Bucky walked into their bedroom, towel slung low on his waist, water beading on his skin. 

She stared at him through the mirror and sincerely regretted agreeing to this date for the  _nth_ time. She hadn't had any real time alone with him except for the hour before Jane and Thor showed up and that had really only consisted of cuddling on the couch, lamenting about her day, while he stroked her hair and hummed, content to let her vent. And now they were going to have to sit through a few more hours of conversation and politely ignoring how Jane and Thor gravitated to each other. She loved them, they were her friends, but she wanted a hermit night of TV and sex and take-out with her boyfriend, and this was  _sooo_ the last time she agreed to a double-date with anyone. Unless it was Clint and Tasha, and that was purely for scientific reasons. 

"You know they're making out on our couch, right?" he said, as he took a seat on the edge of the bed, leaning back on his elbows, legs spread apart. 

He was totally doing this on purpose, she decided. Looking all attractive and wet and muscly. It was just plain rude. 

"Jane was about one 'my lady' away from tearing her own dress off and riding Thor into the sunset." 

Darcy scrunched her nose up. "Not our couch. I  _like_ that couch." 

Bucky snorted. "Wouldn't be the first time someone's had sex on it."

"That's different.  _We_ are allowed to have sex on our couch. I can't have sex on that couch if they've had sex on it! It's unsanitary." 

He shrugged. "Well, go break 'em up then."

"No way, if I go out, I might get an eyeful of something. I don't want an eyeful of anything."

"They're  _your friends_ ," he grumbled. 

Darcy rolled her eyes. "He's  _your_ teammate."  

"You're the one that got us roped into this thing in the first place." 

She frowned at him. "Fine." Jabbing the last bobby pin into her hair, she stood from her chair. "I'll tell them they need to keep five feet apart at all times or they'll get detention..." 

Bucky didn’t bother answering, instead leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees and swiping a hand back through his wet hair. As she left the room, Darcy wondered how hypocritical it would be of her to break up Jane and Thor and then go back to her room and sex her boyfriend up before they left for dinner. 

Hurrying down the hall, keeping her eyes pointedly down, she called out, "Hey, Jane, we're almost ready... I don't know what you want to do, though, since our reservations are for an hour from now..." When she received no answer, she looked up, only to roll her eyes as she found Jane entirely and thoroughly distracted by Thor kissing down her neck. "Ugh. Gross." 

Turning on her heel, she made her way back to her bedroom. "So, what do you think? Bang some pots around, spray them with a water bottle?" 

Bucky shrugged. "Gives you more time to get ready. We got time to waste anyway. They were still dressed last I checked; maybe they just need to get it out of their systems." 

Blowing out a sigh, she walked into the room. "Hey, wait, are you suggesting I don't look awesome?" she asked, putting her hands on her hips. "Because I didn't have a whole lot of time to get ready." 

"I know, and you like taking your time. Besides, it usually calms you down. So why don't I grab us a couple beers and you can... figure your hair out." He stood from the bed and started for the door, still wearing only the towel, and Darcy watched him go. 

She might've taken offense to the hair comment, only she could feel her hair leaning to one side and falling out in places where the bobby pins just weren't cutting it. With a sigh, she retook her seat in front of her vanity and started pulling each pin out to give it a second go. 

When Bucky came back, he had two beers and a box of leftover Chinese. "How old is this?" 

She glanced over and then said, "If it's chicken chow mein, then I got it last night." 

"You got Ming's without me? You're breakin' my heart." He put her beer down beside her elbow and walked over to the bed, laying down on his side, legs crossed at the ankle, and dug a fork into the box.

Darcy snorted, took a drag from her beer, and then focused on her hair again. "I saved you some. And you know we're eating in an hour, right?" 

He shrugged. "Haven't eaten since breakfast." 

She frowned. "You've been home all day...?" 

"Slept through most of it," he explained through a mouthful. "Still tired." 

Brushing her hair up, she turned her head. "I know, and I'm sorry. When I made this plan, you were supposed to be home three days ago, not this morning." 

"Yeah, I know." He shrugged. "I'll survive." 

She smiled at him. "If it's any consolation, I'd much rather stay home too." 

"Yeah?" 

She nodded. 

"Today really sucked, huh?" 

She blew out a long sigh. "I'm just ready for it to be over..." 

Unfortunately, her night wasn't looking like it was going to be getting any better. Even after finishing her hair, fixing her make-up, and joining Bucky on the bed to steal half of what was left of his chow mein, she was still feeling tired and not at all up to going out for dinner. She looked hot, if she did say so herself, but it was all for nothing. She was half sure that Thor and Jane would much rather be back home 'reuniting' anyway; it was just a matter of getting them to off her couch and pointing them in the direction of their apartment. 

"Y'know, it's kind of quiet out there... You should go see what's happening." 

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Why do I have to go?" 

"Because you love me and you don't want me to be scarred for life." 

He sighed at her, but rolled off the bed, grabbing up their empty beer bottles and the take-out container as he went. 

"And you're gonna have to get dressed eventually," she reminded. 

He smirked back at her before he walked out the door. 

Five minutes later, he returned with two full beers and a frown. 

Darcy sighed, her shoulders slumping. "Are they still out there making out on the couch? I was hoping they migrated back to their apartment or came up from air and realized how  _not_ cool it was to sully my furniture!" With a huff, she said, "I'm so not up for this date anymore. How can we get them to leave?"

Bucky handed her both bottles of beer and told her in all seriousness, "I'm gonna go stand naked in the kitchen with a knife..."

"Master assassin and that’s the best you’ve got?” Darcy rolled her eyes. “There are two ways that is going to end. 1) Neither of them will notice and you will just feel ridiculous. Or 2) Thor will assume you've spiraled into Winter Soldier mode and go on the defensive; in which case, this night is going to end with somebody in the hospital. Also, as a side note, knives and nakedness are a bad combo." 

Bucky shrugged. "Not always." 

"I  _really_ don't want to hear about a time you seduced a mark into bed and then killed them with a knife." 

He smirked at her. "You ruin all my fun." 

She wagged a finger at him meaningfully. "You are going to have  _no_ naked fun unless you help me find a way to get Thor and Jane out of here." 

"Fine,” he sighed. “Let's brainstorm... What would distract Thor from Jane?" 

"Mmm... war... or Loki... or war against Loki. Oh, and sometimes, depending on how tired and/or hungry he is, Poptarts, but only briefly." 

"Uh-huh, and what might distract Jane from Thor?" 

Darcy nodded. "Science emergency." 

"Which one of those is doable?" 

Darcy turned her eyes up thoughtfully and then hopped off the bed, made her way down the hall and yelled, "Oh my god, Tony did  _what_ to Jane's machines?!" 

There was literally only a two second pause before Jane leapt off of Thor, climbed over the back of the couch, and booked it toward the door, muttering under her breath about nosy engineers that had  _no right_ to touch her machines. Looking very proud of herself, Darcy looked back to the couch to find Thor slowly climbing off of it, looking more than a little sheepish. 

"My apologies, Darcy. It seemed that the Lady Jane and I were... easily distracted with one another. Is it safe to assume that Stark has done no harm to her work?" 

"Not since I last checked," she answered, shrugging. "Look, Thor, not that I wouldn't want to hang out with you and Jane and get some grub, but tonight's kind of a bad night anyway. I'm tired and Bucky only got back from a mission this morning, and, _well_ , it looks like you and Jane want some time alone anyway, so..."

"Say no more." He grinned down at her, bowing his head in farewell. "Perhaps another night, when we all have more time."

Before Darcy could agree to anything, Bucky slung an arm around her shoulders and covered her mouth with his hand.

He waved goodbye to Thor as he walked out the door and then raised an eyebrow down at his girlfriend.

"So? Pizza and sex?" Bucky asked.

Darcy tugged his hand down from her mouth and said, "Extra cheese. And I get to be on top."

Bucky chuckled under his breath as he walked off to get his cell phone and call their order in.

All in all, despite how it began, she had to say she was pretty happy with how her day was going to end.  

 


	18. darcy's got a husband

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Polyvore** : [Darcy's outfit](http://www.polyvore.com/darcy_oneshot/set?id=125146909)

Bucky glowered at the couple across the room, his hand tightening around the glass in his hand, formerly filled with vodka, but now running, unfortunately, low. 

Steve joined him at the bar, offering him a sympathetic half-smile. “So you’ve met Mike?” 

"Not really met. Just kind of… glared at for the last thirty minutes." He shook his head. "I don’t know. Maybe if I get to know him I’ll stop wanting to fuck his wife so much…”

Bucky’s attention wandered back to Darcy, taking in the [pretty red dress](http://www.polyvore.com/darcy_oneshot/set?id=125146909) that was hugging her attractively. Nope. Still very much interested in everything she had to offer. Especially when she tossed her head back and laughed; his gut twisted up every time.

The thing was, this wasn’t coming out of nowhere. He and Darcy had been dancing around each other, around this  _tension_ between them, from the moment they met. And Bucky thought it was leading somewhere, at least that’s what it felt like. There were moments, thick with  _something_ , where they could hardly pry their eyes off each other. And conversation would just die away, leaving them standing close, gazing at one another, lost in each other, until something would happen - someone would interrupt or one of them would laugh or look away - and they would take a step back and return to just being friends who wanted something more but never acted on it. He was okay with that, or at least he thought he was, but then she had a husband, and ‘okay’ started to feel a lot like heartbreak. 

With a sigh, he turned back to Steve. "So what’s the verdict? He a nice guy?" 

Steve shrugged. “We didn’t talk much. If it helps, you’re not the only one glaring. Jane’s been burning a hole through his head all night.” 

"Yeah?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"According to her, Mike isn’t a good guy… As in, leaves for long periods of time, usually after raiding Darcy’s wallet, and then pops back up every couple of years when he needs help." 

Bucky’s teeth clenched, his eyes narrowed. “So, why does she stay with him?”

Steve shrugged. “You know Darcy… Always willing to give someone another try.” 

He snorted. “What’s that saying… Fool me once…” 

"Sometimes it’s not that simple." 

Bucky frowned, and looked back at the ‘happy’ couple, half of which was checking out a blonde in a pink mini-dress. With a scowl, Bucky knocked back the rest of his vodka and pushed off the bar.

“ _Bucky_ …” Steve sighed after him warningly. 

He waved back a dismissive hand and crossed the room, readjusting the jacket of his suit, nodding at an approving Jane, and pasting on a grin as he stopped in front of Darcy and her husband. 

"Bucky!" Darcy turned to him, her eyes lighting up in that way that still made his heart clench up in his chest. "Hey… you came. You hate these things." 

He shrugged. “Steve roped me into it. You know how he is…” 

She snorted, rolling her eyes. “If it was the puppy-eyes, then yeah, I can see how you’d get stuck going.” 

He chuckled under his breath. Steve did employ that tactic a lot, especially with women, pulling the ‘aw shucks’ routine sometimes worked better than the large and in charge. 

"You gonna introduce us, cupcake?" her husband asked, squeezing her hip.

Darcy flinched in surprise at his abrupt touch and glanced over at him. “Sure. Mike, this is Sergeant James Barnes. Bucky, this is Mike, my…” She trailed off, pursing her lips.

"Husband," he finished for her.

"Hm," she hummed noncommittally.

"Women, am I right?" Mike shrugged. "Me an’ Darce are workin’ through some relationship stuff." 

"And some financial stuff," she added stiffly, rolling her eyes upward. 

Mike sighed, squeezing her hip again, but this time she expected it, and frowned in his direction. 

"Huh." Bucky looked between them and then smiled, slowly, 

Darcy’s eyes narrowed. “What’s that look for?” 

"Just figuring some stuff of my own out." 

She tilted her chin in that stubborn ‘spill, or I’ll tase you’ way of hers.

Bucky just grinned, holding a hand out. “C’mon. Let’s dance.” 

She smiled then and handed her glass of champagne to Mike before she took Bucky’s hand, letting him pull her out toward the dancefloor. “Are you sure this is a good idea?” she asked him, glancing briefly over her shoulder at her perturbed husband.

Bucky swung her around, his arm circling her waist, drawing her in close. “You tell me…” He stared down at her searchingly. “You got a good heart, Darce. A _big_  heart. And I’ve got no place telling you what to do with it. You’re smart; you’ll do what you think is right for you. I’m just letting you know…” 

She tipped her head back to see him and raised an eyebrow. “Letting me know  _what_?” 

“That I’m done sitting this dance out and hoping it figures itself out… That I’m in if you are.” He twirled her around and dipped her back, drawing her up with a smirk. ”So, when you’re ready and you’ve kicked him to the curb… You got options. I’ll be the first one in line, knocking down your door.” 

"Is that right?" Her lips curled up at the corners. "Just ditch my husband and find you?" 

"We could try it the other way, but it’d probably be a lot messier." 

She laughed, her head falling back, and he swallowed tightly as his heart clenched up. She was still grinning, when she met his gaze again. “That’s a tempting offer, Sarg.” 

"We can do messy, Darcy… I don’t need signed divorce papers to take you to bed. But I know you… You’d want it all done and finished before you went looking for a new guy. And hell, if he’s as bad as Jane’s telling Steve, then maybe you need some time before you go lookin’ for that guy…" 

"And you’re just going to wait for me?" she asked skeptically. 

"I’ve spent the last year waiting for something to happen between me and you. I can wait as long as it takes." 

A frown slowly dressed her lips. “What if I take too long?” She shook her head. “Not to divorce him. I’ve already talked to Pepper about a good lawyer. The papers are being written up as we speak. But the moving on part… The ‘being ready to trust someone of the male species again’ part…” 

"You need me to earn your trust, I can do that." 

"I do trust you. In general. It’s the relationship part I’ve never had much luck at." 

He nodded, rubbing his hand up and down her back gently. “So maybe we figure that part out together… Or maybe you talk that out with someone, take some time, and we pick this up when you’re a little more ready. I’m not too worried about how long it’s going to take.” 

"And in the meantime?" 

He grinned then, slow and warm. “In the meantime…” He spun her out and pulled her in so her back was pressed to his front. He rubbed his nose lightly against her cheek as he said, “We do this friends thing, full of sexual tension.” 

She laughed, low and breathy. “And we dance?” 

He twirled her around to face him and nodded down at her, his hand squeezing lightly at her waist, smiling when she moved into the press of his fingers. “Yeah. We dance.” 

After that, he couldn’t honestly say what else happened with the night. He didn’t know where Mike got to, what Steve was doing, if Jane was still glaring a hole into Darcy’s husband. He spent the rest of his evening dancing with Darcy, making her laugh, and forgetting about anything else. In the morning, she would sign the divorce papers and wave her husband off on his merry way. What came from that, how long she took to move on from it and whether, at the end of it, she even wanted to be with Bucky, he would deal with then. For now, he was happy, and, from the looks of it, so was she.


	19. high school au (1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> high school au - **anonymous** ( **[Tumblr](http://www.sarcasticfina.tumblr.com)** )
> 
> [prequel to following chapter]

“Maybe she isn’t in to football.”

“Huh?” Bucky turned to find Steve standing beside him, hands braced on his hips. “What?”

“That’s why you’ve been showing off for the last ten minutes, right? Because you’re hoping she’ll see…” Steve grinned knowingly. “You didn’t think I recognized her?”

Bucky rolled his eyes, tossing the ball from one hand the other. “It’s not me, right? She hasn’t looked up once…”

Steve shrugged. “Must be a good book.”

Glaring at him, Bucky pursed his lips, and then returned his gaze up to the stands. Darcy was one of the few people using them, a few other people scattered around, but nowhere near her. She had her legs crossed under her and a book in her lap while her hair fell forward in an effort to block out the sun. And, well, Steve wasn’t wrong. Since he’d spotted her up in the stands, he’d been doing anything and everything to get her attention short of yelling her name and begging her to notice him.

With a sigh, he dropped his gaze and, landing on the ball in his hands, he stared down at it thoughtfully.

Steve sighed. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Bucky, you can’t throw the ball at her to get her attention…”

“Why not? I’m not going to _hit_ her,” he argued.

“You hit Rumlow so hard with it last month, he had a concussion.”

“Yeah, but I was _aiming_ for his head… Guy’s a dick.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Still, what if you miss, huh? What if you throw it up there and it hits her…?” His brows hiked.

“I’m _not_ gonna hit her. Are you kidding? I’ve got great aim…” He frowned though, looking between the ball and her. It _was_ a pretty good distance, but, he’d thrown farther than that before. It was just usually to a moving target, and one that knew the ball was coming their way… _Shit._

“Buck, think about this… You wanna throw a ball at a girl you’ve had a crush on since _kindergarten_ …” Steve stared at him meaningfully. “You don’t think there’s easier ways than this?”

“Hey, your girlfriend _literally_ fell into your lap.”

“She _tripped_ ,” he corrected.

“Into your lap,” Bucky finished. “And I’ve only had a crush on Darcy since freshman year.”

“ _No_ , you’ve only been trying to ask her out since freshman year. In kindergarten, you made her a valentine but were too chicken to sign it with your name, so you said it was a secret admirer. And then Brock took credit and you beat him up on the playground later because he got a kiss on the cheek for it,” he reminded. “For all of grade three you put double-stuffed Oreos into her lunch bag because you found out they were her favorite and you liked to see her smile. In grade five, there was that time it was raining outside and Darcy didn’t have her umbrella, so you put yours in her backpack so she wouldn’t get soaked walking home. In grade seven, you gave Bruce Banner your allowance for _three weeks_ so he’d switch Secret Santa’s with you so you could give Darcy something. And _then_ you shoveled driveways all weekend so you’d have enough money to buy her a bracelet that was _way_ out of the budget the teacher set. In grade eight—”

“Okay, fine, yes, I’ve liked her since I was five years old. Thank you for pointing out how stupid I am about her,” Bucky interrupted, rolling his eyes. “So fine, if you think you’ve got it all figured out, how do I get her attention, huh?”

Steve opened his mouth, eyes darted away, and then deflated. “All right, so let’s say you throw the ball… And _don’t_ hit her…” He raised an eyebrow. “Then what?”

“Then I go get it.” He shrugged. “And talk to her.”

“With actual words?” Steve teased.

Bucky glared at him.

“Okay, all right, I’ll stop picking on you,” Steve said, chuckling lightheartedly. “I’m sorry. It’s just… Eleven years.” He blew out a long whistle. “That’s a lot of anticipation.”

“So?”

“So, what if it’s not what you think it is?”

Bucky’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“Well, what if she’s not as great as you think she is…?” Steve suggested, shrugging.

“She doesn’t have to be perfect. She’s just… She’s always been nice and funny and smart… I don’t know.” He sighed, shaking his head. “In kindergarten, you remember we had to draw pictures of our family?”

Steve nodded.

“Well, I drew mine and it only had ma and Rebecca, right? And this other kid, I don’t even remember his name, he tells me my picture’s wrong because I don’t have a dad…” He smiled then. “And Darcy, she threw a crayon at him and she told him he was wrong. She didn’t have a dad on hers but she had a dog and she said the dog was ten times as good as any dad…”

He shook his head. “And in grade two, that girl she hangs out with, Foster, she was getting picked on by a couple of boys. I didn’t even get a chance to break it up, Darcy walked over, socked one in the nose, told him to pick on somebody his own size.” Bucky laughed under his breath. “Kid had at least three inches on her, but she stared at him like she was just as big…

“Grade eight, she, uh, she led a protest against the cafeteria because the food was shit.  She made up rhyming slogans and everything.” He licked his lips, shaking his head. “I don’t know. I know I haven’t talked to her and, hell, maybe she won’t even like me. But… I like her. And if I don’t throw the ball, I’m never gonna throw it, and then I’m gonna be thirty years old, creeping her on Facebook, wondering why the hell I didn’t throw the goddamn ball when I had the chance…”

Steve stared at him a long moment and then nodded. “Well, you convinced me… I say, throw it.”

Bucky looked over at him, searching his face, and then he rolled the ball in his hand. “Okay, what if I really do hit her…?”

“Then you carry her to the nurse’s office and hope she doesn’t hold a grudge… And hey, you’ll be the first face she sees. Hard to forget that, right?”

Bucky glowered, but, taking a deep breath, he turned. It was now or never.

He cringed as the ball left his fingers, flying in a perfect spiral. When it landed at her feet and bounced directly under her bench, he threw his hands up, silently cheering his prowess, and luck.

Steve rolled his eyes at him and then raised his chin as if to tell him to get going.

So, with a nod back, Bucky took off, racing up the stairs to, _hopefully_ , finally talk to the girl of his dreams.

 


	20. high school au (2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> high school au - **anonymous** ( **[Tumblr](http://www.sarcasticfina.tumblr.com)** )
> 
> [sequel to previous chapter]

Darcy was not in the habit of talking to footballers. On the food chain of high school, they were nowhere near her, nor were they a priority of hers. Darcy was more of a debate club person. And, far be it from her to judge, but she hadn’t found a lot of footballers to be interested in debate, not outside of what food group beer fit into or which cheerleader was the hottest. The answer was always Natasha, but it was said in a whisper because A) she was only on the cheer squad to keep in shape since the dance program was cut, and B) she would cut a bitch for implying her looks were the most important part of her. _Literally_. Darcy would never nark, but she’d definitely seen Natasha threaten a few different people in the four years they’d been sharing the same space. And when she said ‘same space,’ she meant home, not the high school landscape they were subjected to.

Natasha was her step-father’s adopted daughter. Well, technically foster daughter, but he and her mom were currently trying to legally adopt her, so whatevs, same difference. Phil was a good guy. Kind of geeky and super into comic books, but she could get behind that. He had a dry sense of humor that worked for Darcy about 90 percent of the time. The other 10 percent was when she’d done something questionable and was trying to lie her ass off to get out of being grounded. He was some kind of human lie detector though, because he always knew when she was trying to pull the proverbial wool over his eyes.

Phil and her mother met almost five years ago at a concert; her mom was a badass cellist and, like all Lewis’, blew everyone away with her mad skills. Hence, Phil asked her out when the concert let out and she must not have gotten the memo that dating people she just met was dangerous, because they went and got coffee, and then spent a whole week basically just falling in love and, wouldn’t ya know it, now Darcy had Phillip J. Coulson and his daughter living in her house.

Natasha wasn’t so bad. She was insanely protective of her privacy; frequently cursed in Russian; had a, somewhat questionable, affinity for knives; and thought spiders were cute and shouldn’t be killed on the spot; but everybody had their quirks. She was also funny. Like, covertly funny, in that a lot of what she said seemed to go over people’s heads. But she always looked pleased with herself when Darcy laughed, so she did, a lot, to show her step-sister that she had her back. Much like how she never narked on her for threatening numerous boys’ lives for thinking it was their right to step into Natasha’s personal space and make lewd come-on’s whenever she walked by.

Personally, Darcy kind of cheered her on for asserting herself. She also high-fived Clint, Natasha’s boyfriend, for never stepping in and making it into a pissing contest. “Tasha’s got it,” was his usual response, before he waited for Natasha to finish up scaring the shit out of whatever douchewad decided to step up to the plate that day and the two them ambled off to the archery field for Clint to get some practice in.

Now that she thought about it, they were both entirely too good with weapons. Even if one was archaic. That should worry her more…

Regardless, her social circle was varied – it included obsessed with the stars Jane, Jane’s exchange-student boyfriend Thor, fellow debater and rule-obsessed Maria, cheerleader and feminist step-sister Natasha, and archery-obsessed goofball Clint – but it did not include footballers. And she hadn’t seen that changing any time soon, until a pig skin _literally_ landed at her feet.

She was sitting in the stands, her face basically buried in a book, her bagged lunch beside her on the metal bench, when the football landed so hard it rattled the stands. She hunched her shoulders, sighing to herself, just waiting for the expected, “Hey! A little help?” Because no, no she was not in gym, therefore she would not be forced into any type of physical activity.

But the expected yell never came. Instead, she felt the stands rattle a little more, and then a shadow fell over her, blocking out the sun and looming in a way that demanded notice.

Pursing her lips, Darcy let out a dramatic sigh, closed her book, and raised her head. She was expecting irritation, or a smug smirk, something other than the grin that was meeting her.

Bucky Barnes stared down at her, hands on his hips, his chest heaving a little with exertion, and sweat dampening the front of his shirt. _Oh_. That was… a nice sight, actually.

“You mind if I reach under you?” he asked.

Darcy raised an eyebrow at him. “If it means I don’t have to move from this unexpectedly cozy seat, have at it.”

He chuckled a little and ducked down, hand braced on the bench beside her while he fell to a knee and dug beneath for the ball.

She closed one eye against the sun that suddenly hit her face and ducked her head a little, her gaze following him. The shirt he was wearing was grey, while the red, white and blue shield on the back was their school symbol. Peggy Carter High had the best sports program in the city and the football team was the crown jewel. Of which Bucky Barnes was the quarterback, while his best friend… She looked out onto the field to see Steve Rogers stretching as he waited. Rogers was the fullback and captain of the team. While incredibly nice, Rogers had a reputation for getting into fights, generally against the population of assholes their school, unfortunately, hosted and usually in defense of someone being picked on. Barnes, on the other hand, had a reputation of getting his friend out of trouble, usually resulting in them _both_ getting detention for fighting. An odd case of good guy bad boys, she supposed.

As he sat back up on his knees, football in hand, he grinned at her, and she noticed the black bruise he was sporting under one increasingly pretty blue eye.

“Rumlow do that?” she asked, nodding her chin forward as she gestured to his eye.

“Brock couldn’t throw a punch to save his life,” he said, shrugging. “Got this slipping in the shower. I’m incredibly clumsy.”

Darcy huffed out a laugh. “Is that right?”

“It’s true. You don’t believe me?” He sat back on the bench behind him, arms balanced on his knees, football hanging from his fingers. “I’m a little hurt. I like to think I’m a trustworthy guy.”

“Might be more believable if you weren’t the quarterback,” she reminded. “I hear that’s a position that needs more than a little coordination.”

“Yeah? You watch a lot of football?”

Darcy shrugged. No, not really, but she didn’t say that. “I’ve seen my fair share.”

Nodding, Barnes stood. “So, I’ll see you at the game this Friday then?” he asked as he started backing down the benches toward the stairs.

Darcy blinked, her brows hiked. “I… never said that.”

“No? Well, if you’re gonna accuse a guy of lying, you should have first-hand proof, shouldn’t you?”

“So, what?” she laughed incredulously. “You’re going to fumble the ball to prove you’re clumsy…? You don’t think your team might not appreciate that?”

“How about this? You come to the game, I promise to be the least clumsy I can be. Might even win the game.” He held his arms out. “It’s on you, though. I might be so heartbroken you turned me down that I lead the team to its first loss.”

Darcy shook her head, biting her lip to hide a smile. “Who says I have enough team spirit to care?”

Barnes pressed a hand to his heart as if wounded.

She snorted out a laugh, which made him grin at her.

“C’mon. Suffer through one game… I’ll make it worth your while, I promise.”

“You flirt with everybody you throw footballs at?” she wondered.

“I missed you, didn’t I?” He winked at her. “You don’t think that was on purpose?”

“No, I was starting to think you really were clumsy.”

He licked his lips, biting them as he smiled. “Only in the shower.”

Her eyes darted away for a moment. She really shouldn’t say yes. She had nothing against Barnes; everything she’d heard about him had been good things. Great student, nice guy, and loyal to a fault. Besides Rogers, he was probably the most panted over guy in the school. But they’d never exchanged more than a few word since, _oh_ , kindergarten, so… this felt completely out of left field. _Still…_

“I guess we’ll see about that on Friday,” she said.

His grin grew and he ducked his head, reaching up to drag a hand through his hair. “Guess we will.”

He stared at her a moment longer and then turned to make his way down the stairs. He was still smiling as he jogged over to meet Rogers, who raised a brow curiously. But Barnes just shrugged and tossed him the ball before they made their way out further onto the field.

Sighing at herself, she grabbed up her book and thumbed through to where she’d left off. Not that she was going to get much farther considering her brain was completely stuck on the fact that she kind of had a date on Friday. Kind of, right? Because that wasn’t like, a definite thing. It was more like an invite to the same general place, where lots of other people would be. So, not a date, but… whatever. She hadn’t been to a game in a while. Maybe it’d be fun…

* * *

 

“Your mother tells me you’re going to the game on Friday,” Phil said, sitting at the island in the kitchen, picking at a bowl of Fruit Loops.

“Didn’t mom say you weren’t allowed to eat anything but the Cheerios? Y’know, because cholesterol or whatever…”

He pressed the milky spoon to his lips. “Shhh… What your mother doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”

“No… but she seems to think it’ll hurt you.” Resting her arms on the island, Darcy reached over and plucked a green Fruit Loop from the top of his bowl and popped it into her mouth. “How’s the heart, pops? Should I be worried?”

“While I appreciate the concern, don’t think it’s going to distract me… Since when do you like football?”

Darcy shrugged. “Since… _never,_ last time I checked. I could be wrong though. There might have been a time in my starry-eyed youth when I lived and breathed it… _Or_ , that might be the entire Friday Night Lights series I marathoned talking.” She sighed, long and wistful. “What can I say? I can’t say no to Taylor Kitsch’s beautiful face.”

Phil blinked at her. “You marathoned the entire series?”

She shrugged. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

He shook his head curiously. “And homework?”

“Hey, I’ll have you know that I am an _excellent_ student…” She paused before she amended, “In everything but math, but I maintain that I’m only bad at it because we have such a deep physical hate on for each other.”

Sighing, Phil shook his head. “Okay. Listen, we’ll talk about your questionable ability to watch so much TV in so short a time later.”

“Don’t make me remind you about the time you spent a whole week watching Supernanny,” she reminded, her eyes narrowed as she pointed at him meaningfully.

“That was the first break I had off for work in six years… and your mother was out of town. I had nothing else to do. Besides, I’m an adult, and therefore impervious to your judgement.”

“Really?” She raised a skeptical eyebrow.

“At the very least, I’m less pervious than you are to my judgement.”

“Well, you’re not _wrong_ … But that’s because you have the ability to ground me.”

He shrugged, unbothered, and ate another bite of his cereal before asking her, “So this football game… Any significant reason why you’re going?”

“To be a supportive sister to Natasha?” she suggested, brows hiked.

“That’d be nice. Except Natasha was suspended from the team for allegedly kicking a boy in the… genital area.”

“The balls. Yeah. I saw that. There’s nothing ‘alleged’ about it. It was awesome.”

Phil gave a long-suffering sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. “The _point_ is… She won’t be cheering on Friday. So that gives you even _less_ reason to go.” He stared at her thoughtfully. “Unless you have a different reason. Maybe a… boy reason.”

Darcy blinked at him. “Are you grilling me right now? Is this your attempt at interrogation?”

“If I was interrogating you, you’d know,” he said dismissively. “This is a concerned step-father asking his very smart, very beautiful step-daughter why she’s suddenly interested in a sport she’s never given much attention to except to mock on Thanksgiving.”

Rolling her eyes, she pushed off the island and walked back to the fridge, digging around until she found the pint of ice cream she’d hidden under the ice packs and a suspiciously grey-looking, freezer burned meat-like product that nobody knew the origins of and, for some reason, never threw out.

Grabbing out a spoon, she dug out a healthy bite and, through a mouthful of chocolatey goodness, told him, “The quarterback asked me to come to his game.”

Phil choked on his cereal. “Quarterback,” he croaked, wiping at the milk that spilled down his chin. “Couldn’t be some third stringer,” he muttered in complaint.

Darcy smothered a smile in her ice cream. “He’s a good guy. You’d probably like him.”

“Am I going to find out if I like him?” he wondered, in a voice that was carefully devoid of emotion.

Darcy hummed, letting him stew in thought for a while, and then said, “I don’t know. It’s not a date or anything. He just asked me to come to the game. Who knows, he might do that to everyone he meets. Good way to bring an audience, right?”

He stared at her a long moment. “I don’t think it’s the job of the quarterback to personally invite people to the game to fill the stands. I’m pretty sure the stands are full enough already. Too full even. I had to talk to your principal about weight capacity a few weeks ago.” He shook his head. “What I’m saying is… If he asked you personally, then it’s probably _personal_ …” He stared at her searchingly. “Is that something you want?”

Darcy stared down into the depths of her ice cream for a long moment before finally saying, “I have no idea what I want. I’m a junior. Why do I have to know anything? Shouldn’t that come next year? Or when I’m 40 and questioning all of my life decisions…”

Phil smiled then, looking completely amused by her, and then he stood from his stool, circled the island, reached over with his spoon and stole a bite of her ice cream. “Well, when you figure it out… I’ll support you.” With that, he pressed a kiss to her hair, dumped his mostly empty cereal bowl into the sink, and left the kitchen.

Hopefully, she thought, _not_ to sex up her mother. Because _ew_.

Still, Phil was a good guy. Better than her biological dad was, wherever he screwed off to.

Taking one last bite of her ice cream, she hid it back in the freezer, washed her spoon and Phil’s late-night breakfast dishes, and then climbed the stairs to return to her room.

On the way, she found Natasha working out in her bedroom and stopped in to hang out. What better way to get her mind off boys than to talk to her step-sister about anything _but_ men.

“What’s your next debate?” Natasha asked as she did one-armed push-ups on the floor. _Show off_. “Practice on me.”

Grinning, Darcy flopped down on the bed and took a deep breath.

* * *

 

“I understand why _you’re_ here, but why are _we_ here?” Jane wondered.

“I rather like this game,” Thor exclaimed proudly. “In my country, football is like your American soccer.”

“Well, then this is a treat, huh, big guy?” Darcy said, patting his shoulder.

“Yes. Thank you for inviting us, Darcy,” he replied. “Would anybody else like refreshments? I saw a concession stand when we arrived.”

“Sure. I’ll take a coke and a dog, lots of mustard,” Darcy said, reaching into her pocket for her wallet.

“Allow me. It will be my treat,” Thor said, waving her hand off before he turned to Jane curiously. “I don’t believe they have Poptarts, but I can ask.”

Jane smiled up at him. “That’s okay. I’ll have a hotdog and coke, too. Ooh, and maybe something sweet. Like gummi bears. Or those sour worms that I like. Or— You know what, I’ll just come with you,” she said, standing from her seat to join him.

Darcy grinned as they walked off together.

“Nice avoidance technique, but I’m just as curious as Foster was. What’re you doing here?”

Darcy flinched, turning abruptly to find Natasha sitting beside her. “When the hell did you get here?”

Clint waved at her from Natasha’s other side. “Few minutes ago,” he said as he chewed, licking ketchup from his lips, a half-eaten hot dog in hand. “Tasha said you were being _un_ -Darcy and we had to check it out.” He shrugged.

Darcy turned her attention back to her sister. “What? I can’t enjoy a football game without being interrogated? You spend too much time with your dad.”

“You watched Friday Night Lights, The Longest Yard, Remember the Titans, and The Blind Side. We share Netflix, Darcy. You’re not that difficult to figure out.”

“So, maybe I was just feeling football...”

“I wouldn’t find it suspicious if you didn’t skip The Waterboy and only watch the Burt Reynolds version of The Longest Yard. You love Adam Sandler. Which means you were serious and didn’t want to get distracted.” Natasha stared at her searchingly and then cut her gaze toward the football field, still empty of any actual players while the cheer squad was gearing up. “So? Which one is it then?”

“Which one what?” Darcy asked, schooling her face into something she hoped was innocent.

Natasha pursed her lips, and then reached over and pinched her.

“ _Ow!_ What the hell!?”

Scowling, Natasha turned around, crossing her arms over her chest. “I don’t like being lied to,” she said simply.

“So you pinch people?” Darcy rubbed the sting out of her arm. “What happened to using your words?”

“I preferred this method.”

Darcy frowned, staring at her, but Natasha refused to look at her, glaring out at the field. Darcy hated it when she gave her the silent treatment. When anybody did, really, but especially Natasha. It had taken a while to break through that hard shell and she was more than a little proud that she had.

“Nat…” she sighed.

Clint watched them, popping peanuts into his mouth. “She’ll freeze you out all night if you don’t tell her.”

Darcy frowned at him.

He shrugged. “Just saying.”

Tugging on the sleeves of her sweater, Darcy cast her gaze around the stands, packed to nearly overflowing. Phil hadn’t been kidding about reaching capacity on game night. She shifted in her seat, briefly worried that the stands really wouldn’t hold. How much would that suck?

Turning her attention back to Natasha, she found her still sitting as she had been, stiff and closed off, pointedly avoiding Darcy’s eyes.

“Fine,” she groaned. “But you don’t get to say anything, or judge, or tell me how crazy I am, all right?”

Natasha turned her head a little to see her and then gave a short, accepting nod.

“On Monday… I was sitting out here reading at lunch and, I don’t know, Bucky Barnes threw a football, it landed at my feet, we talked a bit, and he told me I should come to the game… So, here I am, because I’m lame and for some reason thought this was a good idea.”

“Barnes.” Natasha’s brow furrowed. “You’re on a date with Barnes.”

“I don’t think it can be called a date if it’s spent with this much space between person A and person B,” she argued, pointing a thumb out to the field. “And besides, it’s not like that. He just made a joke about being clumsy and I said that he couldn’t be if he was the quarterback and he said I didn’t have any proof he wasn’t clumsy and somehow that led to him inviting me to see him play. So… here we are. It’s not a date. It’s… I don’t know what it is. Mostly crazy. Probably. Right?”

“Can’t say. I’m not supposed to comment.”

Darcy glared at her. “ _Nat_ …”

Natasha grinned, shifting in her seat to see her better. “I’ve met Barnes. He’s a good guy. Genuinely. Him and Rogers both. They keep the team from being assholes to the cheer girls. If Barnes asked you here, he probably had a purpose. If it’s not to date you, then that’s his loss.” She shrugged her shoulder and reached over to brush Darcy’s hair behind her shoulder affectionately. “You’re a catch, _sestra_ , if he can’t see it, he’s not worth the energy worrying over.”

Darcy smiled then and reached over, slinging an arm around Natasha’s shoulders and leaning against her. “You’re kind of awesome.”

“I’ve been told.”

Another arm wrapped over hers and both she and Natasha turned to see Clint joining in. He grinned as his girlfriend shook her head at him fondly.

Darcy let go and turned her attention back to the field, hoping she wouldn’t have to see them making out for most of the game.

Thor and Jane were climbing the stairs as the announcer started getting excited and the team ran out onto the field to a celebration of cheering that nearly deafened Darcy on spot. Cheering was not her modus operandi. Not in crowds anyway. Surrounded by strangers, she wasn’t sure jumping on spot and screaming was really her kind of thing. Or maybe she just needed some time to get comfortable. Because sitting alone watching football movies told her she could get super involved in the game. Cheering on fictional characters on her laptop screen was different, however.

She watched the team collected together and scanned the group for familiar faces. She spotted Rogers pretty easily, but that was because he was huge. He was kind of hard to miss, really. She remembered him as a kid; he’d been tiny, almost sickly looking, really undersized for the most part. But then puberty hit him hard and he had a huge growth spurt. And now look at him; he was nearly the size of Thor, who was aptly named after the god of Thunder.

From Rogers, it wasn’t difficult to spot Barnes, seeing as the two of them were rarely apart. Bucky was by no means small; he was just more lanky than muscle mass, which fit for a quarterback, she supposed.

She expected him to be focused, intense, much like Rogers looked; what she hadn’t expected was to find Barnes scanning the stands. Her heart jumped a little in her chest and she bit her lip. He probably wasn’t looking for her. It wasn’t like it’d been a big deal. So they flirted a little. He probably forgot about it already. There was no point in getting her hopes up. And really, since when was she even interested in football players? Her last boyfriend was a dude who liked to play chess and wore a pocket protector, and he’d been just her speed… Except he never got her jokes and was kind of a snob and constantly got into science fights with Jane in an effort to prove he was smarter than her. God, he was a dick, why did she even date him? Oh, right, he was a seriously good kisser. Well, whatever, that was over and now she was… being waved at by the quarterback.

“Oh God, what do I do?”

Natasha picked up Darcy’s hand and waved it for her.

Darcy glared at her, yanking her hand free. “Tell me, how was that not mortifying?”

“I think he liked it,” Natasha dismissed.

Darcy looked back to see Barnes grinning at her. She couldn’t tell from this distance, but she thought he might be laughing. And not _at_ her, exactly. Great, now he found her cute.

Thankfully, he was drawn into a huddle with the coach and could, therefore, no longer see her lingering embarrassment.

“This is awful. Somebody put me out of my misery,” Darcy muttered.

“Why? What’s happening? Hey, did Thor give you your hot dog?” Jane wondered.

“It’s not awful. He obviously likes you,” Natasha told her.

“Yeah, he’s interested,” Clint piped up, digging out a handful of popcorn. And good lord, where was he getting this food?!

“Everybody shut up,” Darcy whined. “And no, Thor didn’t give me my hot dog. Hand it over, Hammer-time.”

Pleasantly, Thor did just that, not the least bit put off by her attitude. He was probably used to it at this point. She would be sure to thank him for putting up with her mood swings later.

Stuffing half of her hot dog into her mouth without hesitation, she decided that she was not going to be weird about this. She was going to watch a game of football, much like she’d been doing the past four days, even if it was on a screen, and she wouldn’t think too much or too hard about Bucky Barnes.

* * *

 

The game was not nearly as climactic as what she’d seen in movies, which sucked, but it wasn’t awful. She found herself getting more and more excited as time ticked by and the crowd’s interest rose. Pack mentality or whatever, but she kind of liked it. She even cheered sometimes. It helped too that her sister was insanely competitive, and loud. Natasha, without cheerleading to distract her, felt it was her job to inform the referees whenever they made a bad call, insult the rival team colorfully, and cheer louder than anybody else whenever the home team did anything remotely good. Suffice it to say, they were getting a lot of looks, some indulgent, others annoyed. Except Clint, who stared at Natasha with stars in his eyes pretty much always.

Thor too was pretty excited for the game, repeatedly high fiving Natasha over their heads as they stood to cheer with every play. Jane, on the other hand, was definitely doing chemistry homework. How she could concentrate with the level of noise around her, Darcy had no idea, but it was nice to have at least one friend who didn’t nudge her every time they thought Barnes was looking in her direction.

She had to give it to him, though. For a guy who said he was clumsy, he wasn’t showing it on the field. Instead, Barnes moved like he was one with the field. Like nothing and nobody could touch him there. This was his playground and he reigned as king. It helped, too, that Rogers was possibly the most imposing fullback she’d ever seen, and Darcy had a healthy appreciation for Tim Riggins, thank you very much. But Rogers was a powerhouse and showed no signs of slowing down. The two of them must have been a dream time; she imagined Coach Taylor would have wept over having them for players.

By the time the game was over, she was pretty happy with it though. They won, which was no surprise really, but still exciting to see in action. She wasn’t as active a participant as Natasha and Thor, but she wasn’t as unengaged as Jane was either. She and Clint leveled it out at a comfortable appreciation that was neither screaming themselves hoarse nor pretending it wasn’t happening at all. She could live with that.

As the stands began to empty out and people started leaving for after parties, she found herself in a quandary. Was she supposed to just leave or should she stay and congratulate him, or was there some kind of unspoken rule about this kind of thing? What chapter would this even fall under in high school dating 101?

Jane and Thor were already walking down the stairs and, well, since they were her ride, she started after them.

She could hear Jane going on about something in chemistry while Thor listened intently to every word. It went way over Darcy’s head and she usually just nodded along to every second sentence, but Thor wasn’t just nice on the eyes, but also pretty damn smart himself. Not to mention, completely enamored with everything Jane. It was cute, actually. In that ‘way to make a girl jealous, why can’t I have a dude that looks at me like you and Nat do’ kind of way.

“Darcy!”

She paused as she heard her name and turned her head curiously, her brow furrowed.

And then she was staring at a #17 jersey and Bucky Barnes was grinning at her, his helmet hanging from his hand at his side. “You came,” he said, a little breathlessly.

She shrugged, kicking at the grass beneath her feet. “Sure. Just wanted to see what all the hype was about.”

“Yeah?” He nodded, licking his lips. “Disappointed or everything you hoped it’d be?”

She stared up at him searchingly. “I haven’t decided yet.”

He pursed his lips to hide a smile. “You, uh, got plans after this?”

“Well, the really shitty hot dog I ate earlier says I need real food, so I think I’m going to get dinner. After that, I couldn’t tell you.”

“I, uh, I know a good burger joint. Makes real milkshakes too, if you’re interested.”

She tipped her head. “Are you asking me out on a date?”

“Trying to.” He closed one eye as he winced. “I don’t think I thought this whole thing through on Monday. Not much of a date when you spend all of it sitting in the stands and we can’t even talk to each other.”

Her brows hiked. “Yeah, no, can’t say it qualified as a good date idea.”

He chuckled under his breath. “So lemme take you out for dinner… make it up to you.”

“I don’t know…” She shook her head. “I heard you’re clumsy. You might knock that homemade milkshake over. It’d be a serious waste of ice cream that I’m not sure I can risk.”

Grinning, he nodded. “You’re gonna hold that against me for a while, huh?”

“Seriously, though, did you throw that ball up there _just_ to talk to me?”

“Honestly…” He stared down at her. “I’ve been trying to figure out a way to ask you out since Freshman year.”

Darcy choked out a surprised noise, her eyes wide.

He nodded, looking a little bashful now. “Yeah…”

“And _that’s_ the best you came up with?” she teased, reaching over to shove his shoulder. “You threw a _football_ at me…”

“I didn’t say it was my _best_ idea… It was just kind of a split-second, stop talking yourself out of it thing… And, you gotta admit, it worked.”

Darcy scoffed. “Slightly.”

“You’re here, aren’t you?” And there was the slightly cocky smirk of his.

“Maybe I had nothing better to do. Or maybe I felt like showing Thor the finer side of American football. Or maybe my sister was feeling a little resentful about being suspended from cheer and wanted moral support for—” She cut herself off when he stepped closer, enough that she had to tip her head back to see him properly.

And, _ugh_ , it should be a crime to be that good looking and smell that good even when he was sweaty and dirty. Totally rude. But there he was, looking handsome, smiling down at her in a way that made her stomach twist up. He reached up and brushed her hair off her cheek, tucking it behind her ear, and she bit her lip as she shivered.

“Cold?”

“No.”

His smile widened. “You gonna put me outta my misery and have dinner with me?”

She hummed thoughtfully. “One condition.”

He nodded.

“No football talk. I think I’m all footballed out.”

“Sure,” he agreed. “We can talk about anything you want…”

“Anything?”

“You’re in debate club, right?”

She raised a surprised brow.

“Since Freshman year,” he reminded, ducking his head as he smiled. And oh, she thought he might be blushing just a little bit. If that wasn’t endearing, then she’d give up her iPod.

“Yes, I’m in debate club.”

“So, maybe you could tell me what your next debate’s on…” he suggested.

Be still her heart.

Raising an eyebrow up at him, she teased, “Why, you gonna show up and cheer me on?”

“You caught me. I’ll even get a ‘Darcy’s #1’ t-shirt made.”

“You mean you’ll pull out the one you already had made Freshman year for your original ‘ask Darcy out’ plan, right?”

He laughed. “Of course.”

She smiled up at him. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Dinner. Me and you.” She looked past his shoulder and added, “And Rogers, if you want. Since he looks kinda lonely standing on the sidelines without you.”

Barnes turned and found his best friend, waving at him before he turned back to Darcy. “Nah, he’s just waiting on Sharon.”

“Ah. Just you and me then.”

“I like the sound of that.”

“Well, I’m great company,” she boasted lightly.

“I’ll have to see that for myself. Proof’s important. Right?”

Darcy smiled. “Vital even.” She turned on her heel then and they started walking down the field together. “So, uh, I guess you have to get cleaned up and then we can go?”

“Sure. Unless you don’t mind me smelling like sweat and turf.”

Darcy leaned over and gave him a sniff. “I don’t know. Not the worst thing I’ve smelled.”

“No?”

She shook her head, wrinkling her nose. “No, that would be the time Clint decided he was going to make a stink-bomb arrow just for kicks. It… did not work out in anyone’s favor.”

Barnes laughed, his head falling back as he did.

She stared up at him, looking boyish and handsome and altogether too damn beautiful. Her heart squeezed in her chest. Oh, she was totally in over her head. She was probably looking at him like Thor looked at Jane and Clint looked at Natasha.

Of course, when he raised his head and met her eyes, smiling down at her all the while, she realized maybe she wasn’t the only one staring dopily. She could live with that.


	21. "who is she?" "my wife"

**[Moved to be expanded on](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2030208/chapters/4404468)**.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anybody curious, I do have more for this idea planned out. Interested? :)


	22. quick, pretend we know each other

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **polyvore** : [darcy](http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/set?id=134837979)

He wasn't anywhere near as drunk as he wanted to be. Unlike Steve, he actually had that option, but it still took a lot more alcohol than most had to drink for him to get drunk. And he wanted to be. Sloppy, mindless, forget everything drunk.

He had just knocked back another shot of vodka and waved the glass in the bartender's general direction when suddenly he was being turned, a hand on his hip, flexing and squeezing. He tensed up immediately, ready to fight, to attack, to kill if need be. It was a combination of anger simmering under the surface and the effect of what alcohol he had already consumed popping the lid off his control just enough. But then he was looking down at a pretty face with full lips and a wrinkled nose.

"Hi, you don't know me, but I need you to pretend you do," she said in a rush, her eyes darting behind her and then forward again, settling on his.

Blue. Icy blue. And ringed with black eyeliner, a tiny bit smudged from sweat, of which he could see prickling on her skin. The bar was like a furnace with so many people packed in together. Still, sweating or not, she was gorgeous; stubborn chin, round cheeks, arched eyebrows, and long dark hair that fell around her shoulders, leading him down to an impressive body, hugged beneath a tight, dark red dress.

"What?" he asked, glancing briefly at the bartender as he put down his next drink.

"Six o'clock, guy in the blue button up that's like a size too small for him. He probably thinks it's hot, but he's just looks uncomfortable. Unfortunately, all that muscle mass is not just for show. Anyway, long story short, I might've tasered him for a totally legitimate reason, but he doesn't really agree and he's got a temper and my taser was rudely taken away from me and you're about the only guy in here who looks more intimidating than him. _So_ , I need you to look like you'd kick his over 'roided ass if he comes any closer, that way he'll back off and leave me alone." She held a hand up to stop him, "And before you say something like 'if you're really that worried about him, why don't you just leave?' A) walking the streets alone at night, without a taser, and with him inevitably following isn't an awesome idea. And B) I already tried calling a cab and they said they'd be at least a half an hour. Now, are you gonna help a lady out or what?"

He blinked at her. "That was the short version?"

She threw a hand up in exasperation, but he grinned, sliding an arm around her waist loosely and tugging her a little closer. Her hand flexed on his side, nails digging in, and a muscle jumped in his cheek at the feeling. "That's not six o'clock, by the way..." He told her, dipping his head a little lower to make it seem like their conversation was far more intimate.

"Depends whose clock you're using," she said, staring up at him from beneath her lashes. "It's six for me, twelve for you, right?"

His eyes skittered past her, chasing the large figure moving around in the distance, shoulders bunched up and mouth set in a sneer, his eyes narrowed and set on the woman. 

"He really doesn't like you..." He drummed his fingers against the small of her back. "Why'd you say you tasered him again?"

"Last week, he was manhandling a girl at a club across town, trying to force her into a corner. I couldn't get anyone's attention to help me out, so I took matters into my own hands. Bouncers were more pissed at me than him, though. Figures. Anyway, the girl got away and I got a target on my back for all my chivalry." 

"You get 'im good?" he wondered, meeting her eyes once more.

She stared up at him a long moment, smirked, and gave him a proud nod. "I'm Darcy, by the way. Sorry for interrupting your pity-fest, part of one."

His mouth ticked up on one side. "Pity-fest, huh?"

"Only reason a guy that looks like you sits around and drinks by himself, ignoring everybody who tries to catch his eye..." She shrugged, raising a hand and picking an invisible thread off his shoulder before resting her hand there. "You never gave me your name."

"No, I didn't." He turned then, resting his back against the bar, and brought her in closer, to stand between the part of his legs, his hand making small circles on her back while his free elbow rested on the bar beside him. He looked relaxed, a smile curving his mouth that, to anyone looking, would be charming and lighthearted. He almost felt that way too, if he didn't know there was an enemy lurking nearby, waiting for a chance to pounce. "What d'you do for a living, Darcy?" he asked.

She tipped her head, gaze narrowed, and he wondered if she would pursue the name issue. Instead, she reached up to tuck some stray hair behind her ear, sending a silver hoop dancing. "Science, mostly. Or the care-taking of people who do science." She shrugged. "It falls somewhere in the middle. What about you, mysterious bar guy?"

His lips twitched. "Security."

She let out a scoffing laugh and bit her lip. "See, now I can't tell if that's a dig at my situation or if it's truth."

"Does it matter?" he wondered.

"Well, you're stuck with me for at least the next... twenty-ish minutes, until the cab gets here anyway. And then you'll probably never see me again."

"So that gives me leave to be honest, huh?" He skated his fingers up her spine and licked his lips as she shivered, leaning into him a little more. He looked past her shoulder and found her follower skulking around the edges, still watching, but keeping his distance. "You have this problem a lot?" he wondered.

"Strangers being oddly secretive or creepy would-be-rapists following me around bars?"

He shrugged. "Either or."

"Strangers are usually a lot more forthcoming. Too much, even. Especially at bars, because they want to get me in the sack. Creepy would-be-rapists, well... I wouldn't say this is the first one I've had lurking around, or the first time I've had to taser some asshole who couldn't take 'no' for an answer." 

His mouth pressed into a hard frown, brow furrowing. "It's that common?"

Her smile turned bitter then. "More common than people think."

He hummed, his eyes trailing the man. "You think he does it a lot?"

"I wouldn't put it past him...There's a lot of assholes in the world."

A number of scenarios ran through his head; it'd be simple to kill him. Lure him out into the alley, put him down. Wait until he got wasted, make it look like an accident. He was trained in various ways to make something look like a suicide or an accident and he could employ any one of them without fail. Just one more death to add to the tally, but maybe this one wouldn't haunt him as much.

"Those look like deep thoughts, handsome. Feel like sharing?"

His gaze moved back to Darcy and he paused as he noticed his hand absently kneading at the nape of her neck, his thumb gently sweeping in an arch beneath her ear. He bet, if he leaned in, he'd catch the perfume she dabbed on her skin. Faint, but there. He wouldn't mind searching for where else she put it, between her breasts, he'd bet, and on each pulse at her wrist. He vaguely remembered a dame he used to go dancing with back in the thirties, she always put it behind her knees as an invite to get him on his, head beneath her skirt. He wouldn't mind doing that for Darcy. He wouldn't mind doing a lot of things for and to her.

"If you're calling me handsome, I'm gonna have to dust off 'sweetheart' or 'doll,'" he told her, letting his hand drift down her back once more, skimming around to her side and settling low on her hip. The fabric of her dress was soft there, while the front and back had elaborate detailing.

"That might work, if you didn't know my name." 

He raised an eyebrow. "I don't know. I think 'doll' suits you just fine." 

"Dolls are simple; they're all the same, interchangeable. I'd prefer to thing I'm unique enough to warrant something better than that." She raised an eyebrow. "But then again, I can't even get a name out of you." 

"You can get your name out of me... Under the right circumstances, I could say your name for a good long while..." 

Her mouth curved up. "Is that right?" 

He nodded, his eyes focusing on her mouth. He could spend a few hours just there, exploring the curve of her lips, each full and pouty. It'd been a long time since he kissed a woman, since he could be happy just kissing a woman. And he could see that, time slipping away as he lost himself to her mouth.

"And what are the right circumstances?" she wondered. 

"We get rid of your goon, take that cab to my place, I show you my record collection, we dance, have a few drinks, see what happens..." 

She hummed, reaching up to drag her finger down the front of him, making him acutely aware of how close she was and how much closer he wanted her to be. She pinched the fabric of his shirt and gave it a tug as she said, "And when we 'see what happens,' just what name am I supposed to be saying for a 'good long while'?" 

"We're always gonna end up right back here, huh?" 

She raised an eyebrow. "Well, I'm pretty sure name's are a common thing to know. You can't expect me to sleep with you and not find out your name at some point." 

"Who said anything about sleeping?" 

She let out a little laugh, shaking her head. "Time's almost up, you know... Cab'll be here, goon'll be gone, and you'll have nothing but your vodka and your pity to get back to..." 

"And giving you my name changes that?" 

"Mostly just the pity-fest..."

"So what, I give you my name, you invite me to share your cab?" He stared at her thoughtfully. "You know, when you came up to me, you picked me 'cause I was scarier than the other guy..."

"More intimidating."

He ignored her correction. "So what makes you think going home with me is a good idea?" 

She tipped her head, her eyes washing over his face for a moment, taking him all in. He used to make fun of that old saying about eyes being the window to the soul, but, for just a second, he panicked, wondering just how dark and dirty his was and how much of it she could see. But then she smiled, a light, sweet grin, and he felt it settle deep into his bones. Not in his gut, not a visceral thing that would keep his hand busy if she decided to turn him down, no. It was genuine and beautiful and for a second he was just struck by how surreal the situation was. 

A pretty dame in a crowded bar went looking for a hero and found him. Instead? Maybe. How heroic was it to stand around flirting with her, hoping he could talk her into his bed, while some creep stood around the edges, waiting for his chance to attack? Then again, he never called himself a hero, she just saw him as the lesser of two evils. Maybe that would be his life's story from here on out. Never quite good, but not all bad. Better than some, never as great as others. An in-between. 

A sharp ringing caught her attention, drawing it down to the clutch she had on the stool he'd previously been sitting on. Her gaze fell to it and her smile faded away. "That'll be my cab," she said, reaching for her handbag. "Do me a favor, huh?" 

"What's one more for the road," he answered, though disappointment was stirring in his gut. 

She leaned in and pressed a kiss to his cheek, lingering a moment with her lips pressed close and her breath warm on his skin. "Keep an eye on the asshole. Make sure he keeps his hands to himself."   
With that, she pulled away, turned on her heel, and started across the room, focused on the door leading outside. 

He stared at her a few seconds, his foot tapping on the floor. And then he turned and waved the bartender over. "You see that guy..." He pointed to the jerk that'd been following Darcy around and was now scanning the room, searching for her. "He's been hassling some of the girls. Keep an eye out, will ya?" 

The bartender frowned, giving a short nod, and then waved over one of the security guards. Bucky watched for a moment longer as the guard moved in to have the asshole removed; it wasn't much, but it was something. He moved toward the door then, hurrying outside, only to find the street out front peppered with random faces, people walking in various directions or collecting in groups to have a smoke or shoot the breeze, none of them were anyone he recognized. His shoulders fell, a sigh leaving him, and he reached up, carding a hand through his hair, frowning to himself. Regret hit him abruptly and he closed his eyes against it.

"Should I be flattered?" 

He paused, surprised, and then opened his eyes and turned to find Darcy standing just behind him, leaning back against the red brick wall of the bar. "Thought you grabbed your cab," he said. 

"Turns out I still have a few minutes before it gets here. That was my boss checking in, making sure I got home safe." 

He nodded and took a few steps toward her. "Sounds like a good boss." 

"Good friend. Best friend." She shrugged, tipping her head back to see him. "So, you in a hurry to get home or you miss me already?" 

His mouth curved up in a grin as he looked away. "James." 

Her brow wrinkled. "Huh?" 

He looked back at her, took a deep breath, and said, "My name's James... but some people call me Bucky." 

She nodded then, and ducked her head as she smiled. 

A honk suddenly caught their attention and he turned to see a cab waiting at the side of the road. "Think that's you," he said, turning back to her. 

"It's 'us,' if you're interested." She pushed off the wall and walked past him toward the cab. 

"You still think this is a good idea?" he wondered, following after her.   
She turned as she reached the cab, her hand on the door handle. "You don't go home with a lot of women, do you James?" 

He shrugged. "Not lately... Not for a while."

She hummed, releasing the handle and reaching for him, her hand settling on his bicep and sliding down his arm. "It's just like you said... We'll go to your place and you can try to impress me with your music collection. We'll talk, a lot, which I'm guessing isn't your strong suit, but that's fine, because I can carry three conversations at once, trust me. And then we'll dance, sloppily, because it's always more fun that way. And after... we just let things happen. If that means seeing how comfortable every available surface in your apartment is, so be it. But we've all got night, and we can change our minds at any time. Who knows, maybe you'll just become a new drinking buddy that I need to educate on the finer points of music." She squeezed his hand, his bionic fingers only registering the pressure. "I'm going to get into this cab. You can either get in with me or not. Your choice."

With that, she let go, opened the door and ducked inside, sliding across the seat.

He stared after her for a moment, considered his options and the mix of regret and disappointment he'd felt earlier, when he watched her walk away. Finally, he climbed in after her. As he closed the door, he told the cab driver his address. When he sat back, he looked over to find her smiling at him. Shaking his head, he reached over and took her hand, their fingers slotting together.

"You live in Brooklyn," she said, looking over at him curiously.

He could've said a lot of things. He could have changed the subject or said he was new to the area or even that he'd only really moved there a couple years ago. He was good at distraction, at changing the subject, at avoiding the truth at all costs. He could have said a lot of things, what he told her instead was, "I grew up in Brooklyn," and, with that, he made the choice to share a lot more than just his bed with Darcy.

Maybe it wouldn't last. Maybe he would never see her after that night. Maybe she would leave long before they ever got to past the dancing part of their evening. Or maybe not. All he knew for sure was that he wasn't sitting alone at a bar, drowning his sorrows in vodka and wishing he couldn't feel a thing. Whatever it was, wherever it was going, it was better than what he'd originally planned for himself. While he was usually a guy who needed a plan, this time he decided to just let life take him where it wanted. He had a feeling it was somewhere good. He needed good. And Darcy... Darcy looked real good.


	23. tumblr

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **prompt** : "tumblr" - **anonymous** ( **[Tumblr](http://sarcasticfina.tumblr.com/)** )

Originally, Darcy showed him Tumblr just to help explain social media and how prevalent it was. She also showed him Twitter, Instagram and Pinterest. He didn’t much care for the last three, though he asked her to help him make an account for each just in case he felt like using them. She checked in from time to time to see if he’d added anything, but they stayed empty and unused for the most part. All but his Tumblr. 

He started out slow; reblogging gifsets and fanart of Steve at first. Artistic renditions of Steve pre-serum were his his favorite. But there were other things; cartoons, metas, personal feelings, stories of gratitude after he’d saved them in the first Avengers battle. Darcy dubbed his Steve period as his safety zone. This was where he was comfortable, where he was learning and staying within the confined area of what he knew, or what was he was ready to know. 

Gradually, however, he began adding other things. He noticeably stayed out of his own tag, and Darcy assumed it was because he had a pretty good idea of the back and forth rhetoric that would be there; things he wasn’t ready to face or question or wonder about. But soon she found he was reblogging things about the rest of the team. 

He started with Falcon, one of the first people, besides Steve, that Bucky really felt comfortable being around and talking to. There were drawings of Sam as a boy, wishing he had wings, and as a man who finally had them. Soaring through the sky with freedom and justice under either wing. Darcy considered it Bucky’s hopeful period, where Sam was the good man that Bucky had once hoped to be, or thought he was. Someone Bucky could admire and aspire to be like.

Black Widow followed, and Darcy noticed he reblogged more of the darker stuff, artistic renditions of her history, when Bucky was having a particularly bad day. Unable to go into his own tag, he went in search of something relatable, something that could fit with his own history with HYDRA. She wouldn’t call it a set-back so much as a careful curiosity of himself and the dichotomy of good, bad, and evil. Sometimes the lines were blurred, and it didn’t always have to be one or the other. 

Darcy was only mildly surprised to see that the Hulk was another of his favorites. She was probably over-analyzing, but she imagined he could relate to Bruce, who felt he had a monster inside of him that he could only sometimes control. What she did like though was that Bucky tended to reblog the more lighthearted drawings of the Hulk, where he was portrayed less as a monster and more as a teammate that didn’t always know his own strength, and tended to funnel it into destroying enemies rather than standing as the epicenter of chaos. She wondered if he saw that in himself too.  

Darcy followed him early on, his one and only follower for the longest time. She enjoyed dropping by to see what he’d reblogged, sometimes using it as a way to gauge how he was feeling that particular day. What she liked even more was when he went looking for her, laptop in hand, and would show her things he’d saved in his drafts. They could spend hours sitting together in the common room, going over what caught his eye and why. Other days, when he didn’t feel like leaving his room, uncomfortable around other people and needing space, he would just tag what he wanted her to see with her name. It left a warm feeling in her stomach that he thought about her. Sometimes it was goofy gifs of cats and other times it was long and detailed rants about the government or feminism or reproductive rights. Clearly, he understood her.

As time went on, she noticed how his tagging changed too, from navigational to personal. Gone were the short tags that let him find something in future and in their place were his opinions and concerns and feelings on just about everything. At the same time, she also noticed he was becoming more open with the rest of the team. Sometimes he would bring up topics that he’d found on Tumblr and researched on his own, curious to see what they thought and if their feelings matched his own. He’d get into debates with Steve or Sam, sometimes for the fun of it, sometimes because he clearly felt like arguing. Bit by bit, he was letting himself express himself more, and she couldn’t be happier. While she hadn’t exactly intended for it to be as therapeutic as it had been, she was glad it had become an outlet for him, and one he could share with her.

It was six and a half months after she’d introduced him to Tumblr when he sent her an Ask that said, simply, “Wanna go dancing Saturday?” She sent him back a dancing cat gif. He replied with, “I’ll take that as a yes.” 

* * *


	24. "One teeny tiny explosion, and suddenly I'm the bad guy!"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **prompt** : "One teeny tiny explosion, and suddenly I'm the bad guy!" - [cuddliestcactus](http://cuddliestcactus.tumblr.com/) ( **[Tumblr](http://sarcasticfina.tumblr.com/)** )

Darcy was  _beyond_ done with jackbooted thugs. They were the  _worst_. And she would know, since she constantly knocked heads with them. She’d tried to be sympathetic, really, she did. She understood that Avengers Tower needed security. She also understood that, since SHIELD had been brought down, they didn’t have much else to do but wait around for it, or something like it, to be rebuilt. And that, in the meantime, suspicion was on high. But  _really_? She couldn’t be the biggest threat in the tower. In fact, she  _knew_ she wasn’t. She shared a floor with Thor. Cut, alien warrior definitely trumped science wrangler any day. In fact, her boss/best friend, if she felt so inclined, could  _totally_ rule the world. And Darcy would help. 

Actually, off the top of her head, Darcy could think of five women that lived in the tower, besides Jane, that could own the world with one arm tied behind their back. 

1\. Pepper Potts  
2\. Natasha Romanoff  
3\. Maria Hill  
4\. Wanda Maximoff  
5\. Helen Cho

But did any of  _them_ have guns pointed at their face? No. That was Darcy. 

Tossing her hands up, she scoffed, “Okay, seriously, guys? One teeny,  _tiny_ explosion, and suddenly  _I’m_  the bad guy!“ Unsurprisingly, not one of them flinched or lowered their guns. They just continued to stare at her, grim-faced and ready to kill the very unarmed coffee-fetcher. “You guys are  _so_ off my rotation for this! No more specialty coffees. No more home-baked cookies. Yeah, Jackson, that means you too! No more holiday cards with the photo-shopped cats in ugly sweaters.  _Nothing!_ _”_

“Stand down,” a much deeper, and calmer, voice ordered.

Immediately, they lowered the guns. 

Raising her chin, she glared at the collected people in front of him. “Seriously!? It takes  _him_ to get you guys to stop? Sexism much?” 

Apparently done with her, they quickly dispersed, leaving her to mutter angrily to herself while Bucky stood off to the side, quiet and watchful.

“I had it under control,” she told him petulantly.

He simply nodded. 

“What did they think I was going to do, anyway? Kill everybody with a microwave? How is that even productive?”

He merely blinked. 

Feeling like she needed to explain, she told him defensively, “I didn’t know it wasn’t microwaveable… I’m tired. I just finished an over-nighter because  _Jane_ thought she found something. But did she? No. But that doesn’t matter, because ‘science waits for nobody, Darcy.’ She finally passed out an hour ago, but I was still too wired, so I thought I’d clean up and eat something. It was in the fridge, I didn’t check, I just kind of… threw it in, you know? And then a  _small_ explosion happens and I have every jerk with a gun in here acting like I just made an attempt on Captain America’s life. I mean,  _really?!_ Do I look like a killer?” She pointed at a stain on her shirt. “That’s mustard, from  _three_ days ago. Killers are methodical and they plan and prepare and I haven’t showered in two days, okay? Who the hell would look at me and think ‘trained assassin’?”

Pushing off the wall, he walked toward her, quiet as a whisper. He reached for her hands, stilling them, and she didn’t realize until that very moment just how jittery she was, playing with loose papers and fiddling with anything in reach. 

“You’re scared,” he said, a fact not a question. “Was it the explosion or the guns?” 

Darcy let out a shaky breath. “I don’t– Both. Maybe. I don’t know.” She wanted to reach up and run a hand through her hair, a nervous tick of hers, but the soothing motion of his thumbs on the back of her hands stopped her. Blowing out a heavy breath, she looked at him searchingly. “It was stupid, right?” 

“The best assassins are the people you would least expect,” he said quietly, and then raised his eyes to meet hers.

Darcy frowned. “I guess you’re right. I mean, there are probably a lot of things someone could put into a microwave that would blow up and kill a lot of people… So, they were just doing their jobs…” Sighing, her shoulders slumped. “Does this mean I have to apologize? I have a cookie recipe I wanted to try out…” 

His mouth kicked up on one corner as he gave her hands a tug. “Why don’t you get some sleep first, and apologize later.” 

“Okay. But someone’s going to have to clean that up… And maybe replace the microwave. Fare the well, Ralph, you had a good run… Better than the last one that Tony toasted anyway.” 

Bucky led her out of the still smoky break room. “I have some leftover spaghetti at my place. Eat, then sleep?” 

Darcy blew out a relieved breath and dropped her head to his shoulder. “You’re a lifesaver, Barnes.” 

He stiffened momentarily, but then hummed, rubbing a hand over her shoulder. 

Bucky wasn’t much of a talker, but she could easily fill his silence. Over warmed up spaghetti, she told him about her list of women that could rule the world. He added Peggy Carter to the list, and she decided she was going to keep him. 


	25. “I almost lost you” kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **[11](http://sarcasticfina.tumblr.com/post/124215358112)**. “I almost lost you” kiss - **anon** ( **[Tumblr](http://www.sarcasticfina.tumblr.com)** )

The smoke was thick, clouding the laboratory and coiling its way along the roof, rippling into the hallway. Faintly, through the ringing in his ears, he can hear the emergency alarm blaring, warning people away. He hadn’t heeded that. Instead, moving against the grain, he’d hurried toward the danger. Not uncommon of late, but at least he had a good reason. 

Turning himself over onto his knees, he coughed, swallowing against the dry burn in his throat, and gave his head a shake. The explosion had knocked him off his feet, and he could feel glass from the walls under his knees and hands. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see fire creeping up one wall, flickering against the water bearing down from the sprinklers. 

He cast his eyes around the destroyed lab, searching out a familiar shape, but all he could see was debris. A muscle ticked in his jaw, panic bubbling up in his stomach and crawling higher to claw at the insides of his chest. Shoving up to his feet, he blinked rapidly when spots swam in his vision, and trudged forward. There was blood dripping down the side of his face; he could feel it. One hand raised, swiping it away carelessly. He’d deal with it later; it could wait for now. 

Glass crunched under his feet. The ground was slippery from water, and he found himself constantly readjusting his body weight to keep upright. The flashing emergency lights cut through the smoke, offering a better visual as he looked around. 

“Darcy?” he called, shoving an overturned chunk of desk out of his way. “C’mon,” he murmured, swallowing tightly. 

He knew she’d been in the lab; he’d seen her minutes before the alarm rang out. She’d popped a kiss to his mouth and promised she’d be done with her last-minute work and ready by six for their dinner date. He’d walked away grinning, ready for it to be six already.

He wasn’t unfamiliar with how unfair life could be; it’d dealt him a rotten hand more than seventy years ago. Lately, it seemed like his luck was changing; he was safe, out of reach of HYDRA, back with Steve, and falling for a woman miles too good for him. For a little while, he’d let himself think things could be different, could be  _good_ , but maybe that was just the smoke screen, and this was the other shoe dropping.

“ _Darcy?”_ he yelled, climbing over a pile of ceiling tile, drywall, and mangled metal. Panic was screaming in his veins, burning him up with a reality he wasn’t ready to face.  _Please, please, please_ , he thought.  _Don’t be gone. Don’t be gone. Please._

A cough answered him, and then, “Here. I’m over here.”

A sigh of relief left him abruptly as he turned in the direction of her voice. He scrambled forward, kicking a stray stool out of his way, and then he was in front of her, kneeling on the uneven floor. 

She was sitting up, soaking wet, dust streaking down her cheeks, her hair hanging in dripping hanks around her shoulders. She was a mess, and still the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. 

Wincing, she pushed onto her knees, and smiled faintly as he reached for her, his hands finding her face while his eyes searched hers. “I’m okay,” she promised. “Sore, and definitely bruised, but I’ll live.” 

“Sure?” he wondered, unconvinced as he looked her over. There was a tear in the sleeve of her shirt, a laceration over her bicep, and a cut on her chin, but she seemed otherwise okay.

Lifting her hands, she said, “Really. I had enough warning that I took cover. All ten fingers and toes are accounted for.”

Catching one of her hands, he pressed a kiss to her palm, his fingers curling tight around hers. His eyes closed as relief swamped him and his heart thudded quickly in his chest. 

“I’m fine.” She gently scooped his hair back, her thumb swiping lightly over his temple. “But you’re bleeding. You sure  _you’re_  okay?” 

Nodding jerkily, he pulled her forward, hugging her tightly. He buried a hand at the nape of her neck; the cold weight of her hair was a strange comfort on the back of his hand. Burying his face at her shoulder, he took a deep breath. “Thought I lost you for a second there,” he choked out. 

“Who, me? I’ve faced a lot worse than a lab accident, trust me.” Still, she wrapped her arms around him, a little tighter than usual, like she was trying to prove to herself they were alive. “Much as I’m enjoying this, if we stay here, we’re both going to catch pneumonia…” 

She wasn’t wrong; the water from the sprinklers wasn’t dissipating and it was more than a little chilly. Untangling from her, he stood, pulling her along with him. He coiled an arm around her waist to help her walk when she winced, a hand pressed to her side. 

“That’s gonna bruise,” she muttered. 

“We’re going to medical,” he decided. 

She snorted. “For you to get stitches.”

“To make sure you don’t have internal bleeding,” he corrected.

Narrowing her eyes at him, she said, “ _Both_.”

Lips twitching, he gave a sharp, acquiescing nod. As they stumbled out into the hallway, she dropped her head to his shoulder and sighed. “Rain check on dinner? Sucks too. I’m hungry.”  

Leaning his head atop hers, he said, “I’ll grab you some M&M’s from the vending machine.”

“The peanut kind?” she hoped. 

He grinned. “Whatever you want.” 

“Careful. You’ll spoil me early.” She squeezed her arm around him. “I’ll share with you though, since you ran  _toward_ the lab explosion,  _like a maniac_.”

“I prefer ‘love sick fool.’” 

He couldn’t see her, but he knew she was smiling. Her fingers tapped against his side. “You think they’ll give me Jell-o if I ask?” 

A snorted laugh answered her. “You have Jell-o at home.” 

“It’s not the same…” she complained. “Whatever, don’t pretend you don’t like those little ice cream cups they have when you or Steve get hurt. Steve ate his weight in ice cream last time.” 

“S’good ice cream.” 

“Yeah? Maybe I’ll find out. You guys never share.” 

He shrugged. “Perks of playing hero.” 

Humming, she tipped her head back to see him as they waited in front of the elevator. Searching his eyes, she said, “What you did, that whole running toward the danger thing, I hear that’s frowned upon…” 

“Hm.” He reached up, tracing a finger under the curve of her chin. “Where’d you hear that?” 

“The Big Book of Logic.”

His mouth twitched. 

“I’m not saying I don’t appreciate it, because I do. But, for the record, even super soldiers have limitations… The blast could’ve been worse. It could’ve killed you.” 

“I’ll take my chances.” 

“Bucky…” she sighed. 

“You tellin’ me you wouldn’t have come running if it was me?” He raised a knowing eyebrow.

She pursed her lips. “ _No_. Which says a lot about both of us,  _and_  promises a lot of hospital visits in our future.”

He smiled then. “Guess you’ll find out how good that ice cream is then.” 

“Keep your ice cream. I call dibs on all the Jell-o.” 

The elevator doors opened then and they climbed on. With a kiss to her forehead, he told her, “Deal.”


	26. “D- Did you see what they did to me?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “[D- Did you see what they did to me?](http://amusewithaview.tumblr.com/post/127443113385/post-trauma-sentence-meme-angst)”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **TRIGGER WARNING** : Mentions of torture/experimentation!!!
> 
> This is Part One of the Anchor Series!

Apologies, but the first part of the Anchor series has been moved to become its own story!

> **"[you (anchor me back down)](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4659951/chapters/10630914)"**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #this is just after he pulls steve out of the potomac #he goes back for darcy because he knows what it's like #to be used and broken by people who don't care or see them as human #so he goes back and he kills them all #and he saves her #she joins him on his self discovery trip #because she trusts him and she's not ready to face reality yet #i imagine him training her because she doesn't want to be a victim ever again #they heal and take comfort in each other #in having someone who understand what they've been through #at least to some extent #and then steve and sam find bucky #and darcy nearly takes them out before bucky can call her off #and steve recognizes her from a file telling him what thor's been up to #darcy is only slightly mollified because hey at least they looked for her #but she's pretty attached to bucky at this point so she's not letting him out of her sight #even if it's captain american and the falcon that want to bring him in #both of us or none of us is like a motto now


	27. “It’s okay. You’re going to be okay.” [part two]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “[It’s okay. You’re going to be okay](http://amusewithaview.tumblr.com/post/127443113385/post-trauma-sentence-meme-angst).”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part Two of the Anchor Series, read the previous chapter first!

Apologies, but the second part of the Anchor series has been moved to become its own story!

> **"[you (anchor me back down)](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4659951/chapters/10630914)"**


	28. “I thought they were going to kill me…”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “[I thought they were going to kill me…](http://amusewithaview.tumblr.com/post/127443113385/post-trauma-sentence-meme-angst)”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part Three of the Anchor Series, read the two previous chapters first!

Apologies, but the third part of the Anchor series has been moved to its own story. 

> "[ **you (anchor me back down)**](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4659951/chapters/10630914)"


	29. “I don’t think you’re trying to, but you’re telegraphing your moves.” [four]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I don’t think you’re trying to, but you’re telegraphing your moves.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is Part Four of the Anchor Series, read the previous three chapters first!

Apologies, but the fourth part of the Anchor series has been moved to its own story. 

>  "[ **you (anchor me back down)**](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4659951/chapters/10630914)"


	30. "Teach me to fight"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "[Teach me to fight](http://leidoscope.tumblr.com/post/128635221443)."

“Teach me to fight.” 

She’s still limping a bit; the last attempted kidnapping was not pretty, but she survived, barely. And it was only because the jackass that tried to grab her wasn’t quick enough and she screamed loud enough to shame a banshee. That didn’t mean he didn’t knock her around pretty good and she had the bruises to show for it. 

He pauses in his pummeling of the weight bag. He doesn’t have a graveyard of them like Steve often does when he’s working out his frustration, instead trying to moderate his attacks. He looks her over, pausing on the foot she’s not putting weigh on, the ribs she’s holding, the bruising at her knuckles, the marks ringing her neck, and her fat lip. “Why me?” 

She answers honestly. “Tasha’s not here or I’d ask her. Steve will take it easy on me and so will Thor. You won’t. And you know how they fight.” She shrugs, but winces at the burn the motion leaves behind. “I just... I’m tired of being the weak link. The one they pick because they think I’ll be an easy grab. I love my tazer, but it’s not always practical.” 

He grunts, and starts unwrapping his hand as he considers her suggestion. 

“I’m a good student. I might crack too many jokes if I’m in pain and curse your name when I have to get up early at the ass crack of dawn, but I won’t give up. And I’ll... I’ll appreciate it. That’s all I can really offer.” 

He shakes his head a moment. “Not all you can offer.” He stares at her squarely. “You get attacked again, you use what I teach you, and you  _win_.”

Darcy smiles slowly. “So you’ll help me?” 

“Coach you,” he corrects. “You’re helping yourself.” 

She just barely keeps from bouncing happily, it’d only end up ruining her good mood when it comes back to bite her in the ass. “Okay. So, when do you wanna start?” 

“As soon as you’re healed up.” He walks toward her, presses his fingers to her ribs and watches her reaction. “These are bruised, take three or four weeks to heal up.” 

“What?  _No_. I can’t wait that long!” 

“You don’t and you’re gonna hurt yourself more.” He raises a brow. “If we do this, you need to be healthy.” 

She frowns. “So, what, I just hide out here for the next month?” 

“It’s not hiding. You  _live_ here. You’re that worried about going out, I’ll take you.” Before she can argue her independence, he interrupts her, “Just until you’re trained. You’re even more vulnerable when you’re injured. If it were me, that’s exactly when I’d strike. This way, if they do, I’ll be ready.” His fingers tuck under her chin then and lift it up while he takes a look at her lip. 

She’s realizing suddenly, with him standing as close as he is, and being far more physical than she was first expecting, that maybe this was a bad idea. She’s been harboring a small crush since he showed up, scowling behind Steve, and it hasn’t dimmed in the least. Also, he smells good. Like, _really_ good.

His thumb brushes over her lip and she swallows tightly. His gaze raises, meets hers. “You ever see the one that did this, point him out.” His tone is dark; it should scare her, but it doesn’t.

Darcy nods a little jerkily, blinks, and then finds him a good foot away from her, giving her some space. “Uh, thanks for... agreeing.” 

He nods, short and simple, and then his eyes wander away, and for just a moment, he’s less of a soldier and more of a regular man, not quite sure what to do with himself. It makes her smile just a little. 

“You eat dinner?” 

He shakes his head slowly. 

“Me either, but I know there’s leftovers.” She motions toward the door with her thumb. “We can talk training exercises while we eat.” 

He hesitates a moment, but then walks forward, and waits for her to turn to meet him. He keeps with her pace, even though she knows she’s moving a little slower than usual, and doesn’t complain about how long it takes to get to the elevator. 

“So, what do I call you?” she wonders. Steve always calls him Bucky, but she’s heard Sam call him James and most of the team refers to him as Barnes. 

“In the training room?  _Sir_. Outside of it... James or Bucky’s fine.” 

“Just in the training room?” She smirks. “Could be fun elsewhere.” 

He turns to look at her, a grin edging at his lips, and she thinks maybe this training thing will be more interesting than she first expected.


	31. “Before you decide to murder me, let me explain…”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “[Before you decide to murder me, let me explain…]()” ([x](http://leidoscope.tumblr.com/post/128635221443))

“Before you decide to murder me, let me explain…”

He hesitates, standing in the doorway, gun raised at her face, and stares at her in somewhat baffled confusion. 

Darcy holds up a plate of colorfully iced cupcakes. “I’m Darcy, I live a floor below you. Jane Foster’s intern, beloved science wrangler extraordinaire. Ringing any bells at all? No? Tasered Thor... Tasered Clint too, but he says if he didn’t lose consciousness he doesn’t consider it a real threat.  _Whatever_ , he totally whined about it for like three days after...” At his blank face, she shrugs, “Anyway, I brought a house warming gift. Sadly, there’s no suggestion in Nana’s old recipes about what recently freed former soviet hostages like to eat, so I went with an oldie.” She tips the plate a little and raises a hand to point. “The green ones are lime, yellow are lemon, pink are strawberry shortcake, and brown is chocolate.” 

Very slowly, he lowers his gun, eyes the assortment, and then says, “No vanilla?” 

Darcy cracks a grin. “Yes, actually, but I hoarded them for myself.” She shrugs. “I’m open to an exchange, but the gun can’t come to my apartment... Or any other weaponry you might be hiding on your person.” 

He blinks at her, then reaches out and snags a chocolate cupcake. He takes a bite, chews it, then licks his lips and says, “They all taste this good?” 

She snorts. “Yeah.” 

He nods, drops his cupcake back to the plate, and then puts his gun aside. Without pause, he removes three knives, two silver balls, a grenade, another knife from his right ankle, a small gun from his left, and another from a holster under his sweater against his ribs.

“That everything?” she asks. 

He glances away, pulls a shiv-looking weapon from the sleeve of his sweater and adds it to the pile. 

“Okay... So we’re officially weaponless then?” 

He kicks his heel down and points at the serrated edge that comes out of the top. “That count?” 

Darcy stares down at his shoe. “Uh... yes, actually. Got any less deadly shoes?” 

He screws up his mouth uncertaintly. “One floor?” he asks.

She nods. 

He kicks his boots off to reveal wool socks and then holds his hands out to tell her he’s done. 

“Okay. Let’s go get you some vanilla cupcakes!” She backs up and turns toward the elevator. 

He follows to walk at her side, letting the door close behind him, and plucks up his half-eaten chocolate cupcake. “’m Bucky,” he tells her quietly. 

She grins. “Nice to meet you, Bucky. I have a feeling we’re gonna get along great.”

 He doesn’t say anything, but there’s a small smile edging at his lips, so she takes it as a win.


	32. wedding crasher

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “[I love you. I’m completely and utterly in love with you. Please don’t get married](http://sarcasticfina.tumblr.com/post/128767378992).” ([x](http://leidoscope.tumblr.com/post/128635221443))

“I love you. I’m completely and utterly in love with you. Please don’t get married.”

She’s already in the dress and she’s smoothing her hands down the side of it, when she turns to see him. 

His breath catches and his eyes blur for a moment, head dizzy. “Jesus.” 

“Not quite.” She takes a step off the pedestal and walks toward him. “How’d you get in here?” 

“I kill people for a living, I can sneak into a church without getting caught.” 

Darcy rolls her eyes. “Okay, I mean how’d you get past our friends? I’m pretty sure Jane’s more of a bridezilla than I am. She’s worried aliens will attack or something and it’ll ruin the wedding. Guess our track record is pretty shit.” 

“Yeah, well, can’t really prep for those crazy assassins sneaking in and tossing out declaration of love.”

Her lips quirk. “Sure, you’re my third today.” 

He snorts, shakes his head, and looks down, scraping his teeth over his lip. “I meant it. I  _mean_ it.” 

“I know.” She reaches for him, fingers sliding across his palm and thumb rubbing over the top. “I wasn’t totally kidding either. Barton did offer to hide me in the trunk of his car and sneak me out of here if I wanted. Tony offered too, but I’m pretty sure he’d make it into some big spectacle, so I don’t think I’d pick him for a rescue attempt.” 

“You need rescuin’?” he wonders, staring at her searchingly. 

“He’s a good guy. Smart, sweet, totally average in every way.” She let’s his hand go and turns to face a mirror, fiddling with her earrings absently. “He had note cards for the proposal. It was dorky, but... I don’t know. Sweet too, I guess.” 

“You guess?” 

“It’s not what I always imagined when I was kid, but... I originally dreamed I’d marry Cookie Monster.” She shrugs. “We had a mutual interests.” 

He snorts, licks his lips, and watches her as she smooths her hands down her dress. It only takes a few steps to reach her, to take her shaking hand in his own and rub his finger over where the engagement ring sits. “Tell me you want this. You want him. And I’ll... I’ll go out there, take a seat, support you the whole way through.” 

“No standing up when they ask if there’s any objections?” she asks, brow raised. 

“Not if you don’t want me to.” He moves in front of her, blocking the mirror, and reaches his hand up, silver palm sliding across her cheek. “I fucked up. Should’a done something, said something, but I got... I got worried. Didn’t think I had a chance. So I shut up and I let it happen and now... Here we are.” 

Her eyes fall, stare at his thumb rubbing at her hand. She closes her eyes a moment and takes a breath through her nose. “Ditching the groom at the wedding is an awful, shitty thing to do.”

“Marrying him when you don’t love him is worse.” 

Her eyes open, stare at his chest a long moment, and then raise to meet his. “I  _could_... He’s a good person.”

“You gonna stake it all on ‘could.’ Hope to hell it works? Go with him back to London, live your life wondering...” 

“Wondering what?” She lifts her chin stubbornly. “What’re my options here? Break his heart and  _then_ what?” 

“Then  _us_.” His fingers slide down the slope of her neck and squeeze gently. “Tell me you don’t love me too. Hm? Tell me you don’t feel this.” He lifts her hand, draws her fingers to his heart. “I messed up. I stayed quiet too long. I won’t anymore.” 

She presses her hand flat to his chest, but doesn’t push him away. She looks up, meets his eyes, and says, “This could blow up in our faces. Falling in love doesn’t mean staying in love.” 

“No, but it’s a good start.” He strokes his thumb over her neck. “Sometimes things don’t work out, you’re right. I don’t think we’re one of ‘em. I wanna find out for sure.” 

There’s a knock at the door, Jane’s voice as she calls out, “Five minutes, Darce.” 

She lets out a shaky breath, closes her eyes, and says, “Jane?”

“Yeah?” 

“Can you get Ian? Please. I... I need to talk to him.”

There’s a pause before, “Are you sure?” 

“I... Yeah.  _Yes_. I’m sure.”

“Okay.”  

He leans down, presses a kiss to her forehead, and she leans into it a moment. 

“You can’t be here when he comes,” she tells him. “It’s bad enough I’m breaking up with him at what’s supposed to be our wedding. If you’re sitting in the corner, it’s only going to make things worse.” 

He hesitates, but eventually nods. “I’ll be outside, on the steps.” He presses one last kiss to her cheek and meets her eyes. 

She smiles reassuringly. “I’ll meet you there.” 

He lets her go, takes a moment to look at her in her dress, and then turns to leave. He passes Ian on the way, but the route he takes keep him mostly hidden. Still, by the time he gets outside and takes a seat on the stairs, Natasha is there, leaning against a pillar, an eyebrow raised and a smirk on her lips. 

“Cutting it close, aren’t you?” 

He blows out a breath. “Made it, s’all that matters.” 

She shrugs, pushes off the pillar, and tells him, “Sure. Just don’t waste it.” 

As she walks past him back inside, he says, “Don’t plan to.” 

Silence answers him. He stares ahead, at the black car waiting for the bride and groom, Steve’s motorcycle just behind it. It was the quickest way to get there, not exactly made for a wedding dress, but it’d have to do. 

Minutes pass and he starts to worry. What if she changed her mind? What if Ian convinced her he was the better choice? What if she realized tying herself to a recovering ex-Soviet assassin wasn’t worth her time? He rubbed his hands over his face and wondered what he’d do if she did decide to stay, how he would cope with realizing he’d waited too long and she’d slipped through his fingers. He doesn’t have to find out. 

The door opens and when he drops his hands it’s to find her standing beside him. She’s traded in the wedding dress for a comfortable pair of jeans and a loose t-shirt. Her hair is still elaborately styled and her make-up is a little flashy for her clothes, but she’s not wearing the engagement ring and she’s smiling at him. 

“I’m hungry,” she tells him. “How’s brunch sound for a first date?” 

He bites his lip as he grins and stands from the stairs. “I can always eat.”

“Good.” She takes his hand as they walk down the steps and bumps her hip against his as they turn toward the motorcycle. “For the record? I love you too. Better late than never, I guess.” 

“You guess?” 

She turns, hooks her finger in a loop on his jeans and steps up close. “I know.” 

He kisses her, outside the church she was going to marry another man, and he wonders why he ever thought he could do this without her. Her arms are around his neck and her lipstick is smeared across his mouth, and it’s the happiest he can remember being.

“Ready?” she asks.

And he is. He so is. 

He offers her the helmet and they climb onto his borrowed motorcycle. Her arms wrap around his waist before she gives his chest a pat, signaling that she’s ready to go. 

They pull away from the curb, from the church, and drive toward something a hell of a lot better.


	33. "Why the hell are you bleeding!?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "[Why the hell are you bleeding!?](http://leidoscope.tumblr.com/post/128635221443)"

“Why the hell are you bleeding!?”

“Stop yelling at me,” she cried, using the wall as a crutch as her leg dragged and blood dribbled from a cut on her arm. It took her forever to get to the residential floors and she wasn’t going to be stopped now, even if she was leaving a trail down the hallway wall. “I’m injured! I deserve  _pity_.” 

“Darcy, this isn’t funny.” Bucky put a hand to her hip to get her to stop, and cut his attention between her leg and her arm. “What the hell happened?” 

She mumbled her answer under her breath, but she was pretty sure he caught what she was saying, despite her effort to hide it.

His eyes widened, brows hiked high. “You got  _run over!?”_

 _“Shh!_ ” She waved at him to keep it down. As if she needed everyone in the tower to hear. “It was just-- It was small, okay? I was almost at the other side of the road and some asshole came around too quick and I maybe didn’t hear the horn honking because I had my iPod on high. And it was just  _dumb_. But I’m fine. Really. My ankle’s a little swollen and I scraped my arm against something on the way down. Pretty sure it was someone’s bike or something. But it  _totally_ doesn’t need stitches...” She bit at her lip and turned her eyes away. “Probably...” 

With an exasperated sigh, he leaned down, tucked an arm under her knees and lifted her right up like it was nothing. 

Darcy gave a surprised shout. “Hey!”

“We’re going to medical.” 

“I don’t need medical,” she argued. “I have a First Aid kit in my bathroom with special edition Avengers Band-Aids, I’ll be  _fine_.” 

“Darcy, you got hit my a  _car._  You need to see a real doctor, make sure it’s not worse than it looks.”

“ _Rude_. I happen to think I look okay for someone who was slightly run over.” 

“There’s no  _slightly_  about it.” He glowered and directed upward, “FRIDAY, scan the traffic cameras and find out who hit Darcy.”

“ _On it, Boss!_ ” she chirped back cheerfully. “ _I’ve also let medical know you’re on your way. Should I give Doctor Foster a heads up too?_ ”

“No. And cancel medical,” Darcy said, glaring at the ceiling. “I have an ice pack in my fridge for my ankle. Honestly. You’re overreacting.” 

“You’re bleeding and you can barely walk. You’re  _under_ -reacting,” he replied, lips pursed. “I don’t get you. You take care of everybody else in the Tower but you never worry about yourself.” 

Darcy sighed, head falling to his shoulder. “I take care of myself fine. I just don’t like stitches or doctors or filling out paperwork about terrible drivers. This is New York. Everybody’s a shitty driver.” 

“That supposed to make me feel better? You got a bum ankle ‘cause some asshole can’t pay attention when he’s driving. You could’a been  _killed_.” He gritted his teeth. “And what’d I tell you about your iPod?” 

She rolled her eyes. “Only leave one bud in so I can hear if anybody’s coming up on me. But you forget, I am a nameless face in a very big city. Nobody’s looking for me. You, the team, even Jane. But not me.” She waved a dismissive hand. “I blend right in.” 

He turned them around in the elevator and pressed the button for the medical floor. “You stand out a helluva lot more than you think,” he muttered. 

Darcy stared up at him, her mouth slightly agape, unsure how to respond to that. So she didn’t. She just stared. Which wasn’t a hardship when he had a face like his. 

“What?” he grunted. 

She shook her head and said, “You know, there’s Winter Soldier Band-Aids in the pack I bought...” 

He raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“Mmhmm.” She smiled slowly. “They’re my favorite.” 

He glanced over at her then, lips quirking every so faintly. “I’m still taking you to medical.” 

She sighed; defeat wasn’t looking  _so_ terrible. “Fine. But if any needles come out, you have to hold my hand.” 

He nodded, then turned his gaze forward and said. “I’ll hold your hand either way.” 

And Darcy wasn’t going to say getting clipped by a car was a  _good_ thing, necessarily, but the aftermath was far from terrible.


	34. "You don't have to be anything but yourself"

Bucky’s been pulling at his tie and fidgeting for five minutes straight. He looks like a feral cat, stuffed into a tuxedo and forced to play nice. Darcy takes pity at minute eight and walks over with two plates of hors d’oeuvres.

“Here, take this.” She shoves both into his hands and then uses his shoulder for balance as she pulls her four-inch heels off and drops them in a pile next to her. “Oh yeah, that feels better.” Barefoot, she takes back only one of the plates and immediately sets her sites on a deviled egg. “So, how much do you wanna escape to the nearest dark corner? Like, on a scale of 1 to 10.”

“Twelve.”

She nods. “Try the shrimp. It’s worth the increased chance of food poisoning the longer it sits out. I mean, for us mortals anyway. You probably have an iron stomach.”

“Always fun to test the limits.” He grabs a shrimp up between two metal fingers, eyes it curiously, and then pops it in his mouth.

“Good, right?”

He shrugs.

“Whoa. Roll the enthusiasm back a notch, Buckster. If you emote past a level three, someone might taser you.”

She gets a quirk of his lips. Not quite a smile, but she’ll pat herself on the back for it later.

“Last I heard, you were the one with a loose trigger finger.”

“Only when threatened. And also that one time the intern drank all the coffee and didn’t make a new pot. But in my defense, I was on Day Four of hardly any sleep and too many Poptarts.”

“Solid defense.”

She snorts. “See. I knew there was a sense of humor hidden somewhere under all that hair.”

“I’ve been storing it up for special occasions.”

“Like a squirrel?”

He glances at her, and she gets another quirk of his mouth. Oh yeah, she’s definitely feeling good about this.

“So, not that I’m knowing your shtick of standing in a corner, brooding. Many a hero has done it before, and not as well. But, if Steve keeps giving you sad ‘join in’ eyes, somebody might send up an Avengers signal just to make him feel better. You know how beating up bad guys makes it all better.”

“It has its perks.” He glances in Steve’s direction and then pivots a little, giving Steve his back. “I’m not made for this kind of stuff. Maybe once upon a time, but not now.”

“I don’t think Steve expects you to schmooze everybody in the room. Mostly, I think he’s just worried if he leaves you alone for too long, you’ll disappear on him.”

“Don’t have anywhere to go.”

“Not exactly comforting. Kind of gives off that ‘last resort’ vibe.” She shrugs, and then steals a stuffed mushroom from his plate. “Listen, all I’m saying is that talking to people will get Steve to stop sending you sad eyes, and it’ll probably distract you a bit. I mean, you tug any harder at that tie and it’ll fall apart. And then you have to walk around with it tucked in your pocket, pretending the open collar look you’re sporting was on purpose.”

He ducks his head and licks his lips. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Just a suggestion.” She reaches for another mushroom, but he moves his plate out of reach.

She purses her lips in a frown. “Rude.”

“Thought you brought it over for me to eat.”

“What gave you that idea? I just needed a free hand. Think of yourself as my personal plate holder.”

He snorts. “Yeah, well this plate holder is hungry. And he doesn’t share the good stuff.”

“Oh?” She raises an eyebrow. “What counts as ‘good’?”

“Everything except that cucumber wrap.”

“Hey! Those things are _delicious_.”

“It’s just cucumber, Lewis.”

“Excuse you! It’s cucumber and the best hummus your sad tastebuds have ever eaten.” She grabbed it off his plate and placed it on her own. “Which you’ll just have to take my word for now.”

“I’ll trust your judgement.”

She nods sagely. “As you should.”

He side-eyes her a moment. “You’re a lot shorter without the heels.”

“I make up for it with my sparkling wit.”

His mouth twitches.

“So? How do you feel about making a round? Just one. I can point you in the direction of someone who isn’t _completely_ boring. They’re from the science floor, but I hear you like that kind of stuff, so it should be fine.”

He frowns then, and stares down at his plate. “I don’t really feel like doing the whole dog and pony show tonight.”

“What show? Listen, you don’t have to be anything but yourself.” She reaches up and flicks his tie. “Wonky tie and all.”

“It’s too tight,” he complains.

“No, those things you and Steve call shirts are too tight. Your tie is fine. But if it’s really bothering you…” She hands him her other plate and then reaches up. With a few tugs of her fingers, his tie comes undone, and she flicks open the top button of his shirt, too. “Don’t tell anyone, but you can actually rock this look without it seeming like you’re trying too hard.”

He stares down at her a beat, and Darcy feels her cheeks warm up unexpectedly.

She wasn’t unaware that he was handsome, but having the full weight of his blue eyes on her has a cluster of butterflies the likes of which her stomach hasn’t seen since middle school kicking up a storm.

“You gonna stuff it in my pocket for me?” he asks. “My hands are a little full.”

She glances down and then shakes her head. “And ruin the cut of your suit? Not likely.” She opens the small purse she’s wearing and stuff it inside. Closing it with a snap, she takes her plate back. “There. Now, mingle time?”

“I’ve got a better idea.”

“I’m listening.”

“We don’t do that.”

She waits for him to add onto it, but he leaves it there. “Okay. _And?_ ”

“And you show me where to find a wrap with the best hummus I’ve never had.”

Darcy hesitates, a little surprised, and then nods. “All right,” she decides. “But if anyone approaches us, you don’t get to scuttle off and leave me behind.”

“Deal.” He glances down at her shoes then. “You taking those, or…?”

Darcy looks back at them with a frown, and then shrugs. “Stark can polish my footprints off the floor later. Let’s go.”

Bucky sticks an elbow out then. “Lead the way,” he says, and his mouth hitches up with a— _yes_ , that’s a smile.  

Darcy tucks her arm through his and grins back.

All in all, she calls the night a win.

 


	35. "Please, you can't die now."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **prompt** : "Please, you can't die now." - [janeyfoster](https://janeyfoster.tumblr.com/)
> 
>  **trigger warning** : implied character death

“You gotta go,” he choked out, an arm banded around his front, blood squelching through the fabric of his tac suit. 

“Forget that.” Darcy looked from the splintered door of their sad excuse for a hideout back to him, tucked in a corner, metal hand gripping a gun both for comfort and safety. “You jump, I jump, remember?” 

He cracked a smile. “Last time I said that, you said you weren’t jumpin’ anywhere without a parachute.” 

“Yeah, well, Stark won’t make me that parachute jacket I keep putting requisitions in for, so I guess I’ll just have to cross my fingers and hope for the best.” 

Bucky stared at her profile. Blood trickled from an open wound that started at her temple and disappeared into her hair. She was leaning to the left, even in her crouch, trying to take the pressure off her twisted ankle and her ribs, where she’d been grazed by a bullet. ‘ _Nothing but a flesh wound_ ,’ she’d joked, even as she grimaced, dragging his much heavier body along with hers. She was shit at shooting, but she had one of his back up guns in hand and she was as prepared as she could be to take out whoever came down the hall. 

“You remember what I taught you?” he wondered, pulling in a tacky, rattling breath. 

She paused and looked back at him, pasting on a devilish smile. “You’re gonna have to be a little more specific.” 

He stared at her a beat– the blue of her eyes, framed in long lashes, and the pink of her lips, a bloody red from where she’d chewed them up. It wasn’t so long ago that she was just another unfamiliar face he had to keep an eye out for. 

( _A woman was standing in the kitchen, a poptart in one hand and an absurdly large mug of coffee in the other. Her hair was piled on top of her head, leaning precariously to one side, and her eyes were narrowed into slits, dark bags underneath them. Rather than greet them, she grunted, and then walked off, slippers shuffling across the floor.  
_

_Bucky stared after her. “Who was that?”  
_

_“Darcy,” Steve answered. “She used to be Doctor Foster’s assistant. She works for Pepper now.”  
_

_Sam chuckled. “She got into a Twitter war with Stark, caught Pepper’s eye, and she ended up hiring her. Now she’s the social media coordinator. Darcy’s the reason Stark’s accounts go dark every once in a while. She puts him on time outs when he hasn’t had enough sleep.”  
_

_Bucky hummed. “She lives here, too?”  
_

_He didn’t miss how Steve and Sam glanced at each other, but chose to ignore it.  
_

_“Yeah, Buck. She’s a couple floors down. She’s got an office on 8, too. If she’s not there, she’s usually in Foster’s lab.”  
_

_He crossed the kitchen to pick up the box she’d left behind. “What was that thing she was eating?”  
_

_“A poptart.” A grinning Sam followed after him. “You wanna try one?”  
_

_Bucky stared at him suspiciously, but nodded.  
_

_“You’re in luck then…” Sam plucked the box out of his hand and turned it around for Bucky to see. Sam in his full Falcon suit was printed on the front. “You like it extra toasty?” )_

After that, he’d see Darcy around but wasn’t sure how to talk to her. She was loud and confident and always seemed to know what she was doing. She was warm and friendly and would talk to anyone. It didn’t matter the environment or the group of people, she made herself fit. Whereas he always felt off and disjointed, like a puzzle piece that was put in the wrong box.

In the end, it was Natasha that suggested he teach Darcy how to shoot. At the very least to defend herself against any possible attack. 

( _“It’s Bucky, right? Or do you prefer James?”_

_He didn’t jump. He’d heard her footsteps coming for a while. The common room saw a lot of visitors; sometimes he sat there just to get used to being around people again. He just wasn’t expecting her to talk to him. “Yeah.”_

_She blinked at him. “Yeah you’re okay with Bucky or yeah you prefer James?”_

_He pursed his lips. “Bucky’s fine.”_

_Her lips twitched. “No argument here.”_

_“Huh?”_

_Waving a dismissive hand, she moved to take a seat beside him at the kitchen counter. “Natasha sent me your way. She said you needed to talk to me about something? I hope it’s not about opening an Instagram account, because listen, I’m all for you sharing all of_ that _–” She motioned to his face, “–with the greater public. But we need to work on your public persona a bit. Good looks can only get you so far before people start making ‘reasons your fave is problematic’ posts.”_

_He stared at her. “I didn’t get half of that,” he admitted._

_“Natasha said you wanted to see me. Let’s start there.”_

_He frowned. “Uh, she said you needed training.”_

_Darcy stiffened. “I what now?” She pulled back. “I thought I made it clear in my work contract that I wouldn’t be playing Spy vs. Spy.” She stood. “No. Nope. Not gonna happen. I can’t even jog without doubling up on sports bras. So whatever workout you have in mind, it’s gonna hurt. A lot. Count me out.”_

_Before she could reach the door, he called out, “Shooting.”_

_She paused. “Huh?”_

_“I can show you how to shoot. A few defensive moves, too. If you want.”_

_She pivoted back to him, curious. “And that’s it? No five mile runs or wheatgrass shakes?”_

_“The hell is wheatgrass?”_

_She grinned. “I like the way you think, Buckster.”_

_Confused, and uncomfortable with the fact, he sat up a little straighter. “When’re you off work?”_

_“What, today? Five, usually.”_

_He nodded. “Meet me at the range.”_

_With a salute, she winked. “You got it.”_

_As she walked away, Bucky shook his head. What the hell was he getting himself into?)_

Darcy didn’t take to guns like she did her taser, but he had a feeling that had more to do with wanting to avoid taking human life. She was the type of person that stayed behind in a dangerous situation to save vulnerable animals than her own ass. There was a part of him– a very large part– that admired that about her. He’d seen too much death. His hands were painted red with it. Nothing he did now could wash that away. It was the same for a lot of the people on the team. They’d seen and done things they couldn’t get rid of. Couldn’t scrub clean from their memory. So, it was nice to be around someone who was a little less jaded. 

Getting together with Darcy was never in the plan. Getting together with anyone seemed too far out of reach. Some days, he didn’t feel like a whole person. Fractions and fragments of who he’d been and who he turned into, just floating around in a misshapen package. Nobody deserved to put up with that. But there Darcy was, happy to take on the challenge. 

( _“Never took you for a coward, Barnes.”_

_He paused at the sound of her voice, flipped the safety on his gun and dropped it on the counter in front of him. Turning to face her, he raised an eyebrow as she crossed the otherwise empty gun range to meet him. Or challenge him, more like. “What made you change your mind?”_

_She snorted. “Generally, when a woman asks you out for dinner and you say you’ll be there, you show.”_

_Technically, she’d told him she was making spaghetti and if he wanted a bowl, she had an extra chair at her table. He was gonna go. He planned to. Showered and picked out one of his better shirts to wear. Next thing he knew, he was at the gun range, spaghetti-less._

_He looked past her shoulder, focusing on a distant mark on the far wall. “You think I stood you up?”_

_Darcy crossed her arms and shrugged. “I think you’re avoiding the inevitable.”_

_“Yeah? What’s that?”_

_“If I have to tell you, then it’s going to take a lot more than my grandma’s famous spaghetti recipe to knock some sense into you.”_

_His gaze darted toward her. “Maybe I lost track of time.”_

_“Or maybe you thought the guns were getting lonely down here.” She shrugged. “Look, I’m not going to chase you. If you’re not ready for this, it’s cool. But I don’t want to play any ‘will they, won’t they’ games. So, I like you. And I think you like me.” She paused. “Do you?”_

_His tongue dragged across his lower lip before he admitted, “Yeah.”_

_“Okay. Well…” She smiled. “You should do something about that.”_

_He took a deep breath. “I’m not good at… I don’t remember how to…”_

_She nodded and took a step toward him, and then another. “It’s okay.” She reached for his hand and folded their fingers together. “We can take it slow, figure it out together. Step one…” She gave his hand a tug. “Spaghetti.”_

_He looked down at their hands, and then to her, smiling encouragingly. And he took a step forward. “I can do that.”_ )

Darcy had to go looking for him at the gun range more than a few times. He was comfortable there. It was familiar. Didn’t matter what gun he picked up, he always hit what he wanted to hit and where he wanted to hit it. Shooting paper was simple. At various points in his life, shooting people had become  _too_ simple. It kept him up some nights. Most nights, if he was honest. 

He wished he could say that he was all healed up. That a few years of therapy and having Steve in his life made up for all that time in cryo or under the thumb of HYDRA. But he was walking scar tissue. Some days were better than most. Some days he even believed he could have it all. Others he just couldn’t.

(  _“You can talk to me, you know that, right?”_

_Bucky looked up to find Steve hovering nearby, that hang-dog look on his face that reminded Bucky that things were different, that they’d never be quite right. That too much time had passed. They’d each done too many things to be the people they once were. But, here they were anyway. And even if he sometimes felt like the living embodiment of Steve’s attempt at salvation, it was better to be here than where he was._

_“I know,” he said._

_“Do you?”_

_He looked up, meeting Steve’s heavy gaze._

_“I know it’s different. That I didn’t go through what you did. And maybe I can’t understand it, not completely. But I want to try, Buck.” He shook his head. “I’m here. I’m always gonna be right here.”_

_Bucky ground his teeth. “Easy to say, not so easy to follow through with.”_

_Steve’s brow furrowed._

_“We both know there’s no guarantees out there, not living this life. The things we do, nothing says for sure we walk away from that fight in tact.” His arm whirred, cogs and wheels moving together and apart. “You wanna be here, I get that. But there are some things you can’t make better. And neither can I.”_

_Steve let out a long, heavy sigh. He crossed his arms in that defiant way of his. “I think you’re wrong.”_

_“Yeah, well, we won’t know until it’s too late, right?”_

_Swallowing tightly, Steve gave a quick jerk of his head. “The offer stands. You ever wanna talk about what’s going on in your head…”_

_“It’s not always about that. About the past. Sometimes it’s about now. About who I am and what I’m doing… I don’t always think it’s real. That I’m probably back there, stuck in cryo, dreaming of better things or something.”_

_“I’d tell you you’re not, but it doesn’t make much difference, does it?”_

_“No.” Bucky stared up at him. “’Cause if it was a dream, you’d say the same thing.”_

_He nodded slowly, knowingly. “What about Darcy?”_

_Bucky’s mouth kicked up. “Well, she’s even more proof, isn’t she? What’s a girl like that doing with someone like me?” He shook his head. “She’s exactly what my head would dream up.”_

_Steve could do nothing but sigh. )_

All things considered, Bucky felt lucky. He could’ve gone a few more years, for sure. He had more he wanted to do and see. More he wanted to show Darcy. More he wanted her to show him. But it could’ve been worse. He could’ve died under HYDRA’s control. Could’ve gone the rest of his life never realizing what he’d lost or ever getting some semblance of peace. 

( _“I can feel you staring,” she mumbled._

_“Can’t sleep.”_

_Darcy cracked one eye open to look at him. “And you thought my face might knock you out?”_

_He half-smiled. “Didn’t want to wake you up getting out of bed.”_

_Humming, she turned over onto her side and reached for him, hooking an arm around his waist, her fingers drawing circles on his back. “Kind of you. But the intense staring overshadows any good boyfriend marks you might’ve got for that.”_

_“Guess I’ll have to earn ‘em back another way.”_

_Stretching, she let out a laugh. “Was that the plan the whole time? Wake me up for some nookie?”_

_He brushed her hair back from her face, fingers tracing down her neck. “Unexpected benefit.”_

_She covered his hand with her own and drew it down, pressing a kiss to his palm. “You wanna tell me why you can’t sleep?”_

_He shook his head faintly. “Not tonight.” He shuffled closer and squeezed her hand. “Rain check.”_

_“Rain check,” she agreed. “As long as nookie is still on the table.”_

_He chuckled under his breath. “Always.” )_

Bucky shook his memory off and refocused on the present. Darcy with a gun and any number of attackers coming their way. He’d taken out whoever he could, but they could’ve called for reinforcements since. 

Much as he complained that her accuracy with a gun wasn’t what it could be, even a crude wound could give them a little time. For what, he wasn’t sure. The cavalry, maybe. For Steve or Sam or the rest of the mismatched superhero gang to show up and save their sorry asses. 

“You squeeze, don’t–” 

“Don’t pull. I know.” She cast a frown down at the gun and then pivoted to look at him. “I preferred your other lessons, just FYI.” 

He let out a huff of a snort. “Pretty sure you were teachin’ me a few things, doll.” 

She grinned slowly. “You kept up.” 

He tipped his head back against a concrete wall and stared at her. Hair in disarray, clothes torn and dirty, spattered with blood (his or hers or someone else’s?). “Never wanted you to end up here…” 

“What, in an abandoned building, fighting off some HYDRA reject?” She shrugged. “The way of life, I guess.” 

He stared, unconvinced.

“Okay, so, not for everyone… But our immediate circle? Definitely.” Darcy shifted, moving across the floor to sit next to him. “You know this isn’t your fault, right?” 

He grimaced. “Pretty sure they’re not chasing you down over something you Twittered.” 

“Tweeted. And yeah, probably not. But it doesn’t matter  _who_ they’re after. Anything they do is on them, not you.” She met his gaze. “I knew what I was getting into. And I don’t regret it.” 

He didn’t either. He wished he could tell her just how much, but the words buckled in his throat and snagged in his teeth. “You deserved better.” 

Darcy smiled. “Who said I didn’t find the best?” 

He shook his head, a quick jerk, and looked away. He could feel blood puddling underneath him, warm and wet. He could taste it on his tongue too, bubbling up his throat only to be swallowed back down. “You can do a lot better than the mess I’ve got in my head.” 

Darcy reached for him, gently brushing his hair back from his face. “You’re not perfect, Buck. I’m a far cry from it myself. But you make me happy.” 

He blinked as his eyes burned. “You make me happy, too,” he choked out hoarsely. 

Darcy frowned. “You’re starting to freak me out. I know the situation sucks, but the team’s on their way. Sure, things look a little sticky, but we’ve been in worse, right? Jane’s almost opened three black holes this year. That felt a lot closer to death than this.” She smiled, but he could see her lips trembling. “And don’t even get me started on how many times Stark’s attempts at ‘fixing’ something ended up blowing up in our faces. I’m pretty sure I still have toaster shrapnel in my back.” 

Bucky dropped his gun in his lap to reach for her, metal fingers smoothing over her cheek. “There’s gotta be a fire exit. If you can get to it, climb to the roof, hop to the next building over. It’ll be tight, but you can make it. Get as far away as you can, call Steve, he’ll–” 

“Hey, hey, hey…” Darcy shook her head and covered his hand. “We’re getting out of here together.” 

He swallowed tightly. “No.” 

“What do you mean ‘ _no’?_ ” She glared. “You think some tactically trained Nazi assholes are how we go? Absolutely not. I’m making it to 93 and dying on a beach, drinking a Mai Tai and reminiscing about all the fun, crazy shit I did. And you, probably looking way hotter than any 98-year-old should, are going to be right there with me, you got it?” 

“We gotta be smart. You got a chance here. You can make it if you just–” 

“If I what?  _Huh?_ If I just leave you behind?” 

He stared up at her, searching her stubborn, scared,  _angry_ face. “Listen, doll…” 

“No.” She squeezed his hand. “I’m not leaving you here. If those assholes want you, they’ll get me too. And a face full of lead. Because I’m shooting anybody that comes looking.” 

He smiled faintly, mouth curved up on one side. “You aim for their face, you’ll end up hitting their toes.” 

Darcy rolled her eyes. “Shut up. Besides, I usually aim for the chest and hit their crotch. It has a lasting effect.” 

He snorted. 

Shuffling closer, Darcy pressed her shoulder to his and dropped her gaze to his arm, still pressed tight across his chest. “You wanna tell me how bad it is?” Before he could reply, she added, “No rain checks this time.” 

Drawing a deep breath, he admitted, “Not good.” 

Her hand tightened around his, enough that the pressure sensors alerted him. “Had a good run though.” 

She laughed, thick and cracked. “Did you?” 

“The beginning was pretty good. End wasn’t too bad either.” 

“Sure, just the 70 years in between. A drop in the bucket, really.” 

He half-smiled. “Could’a been worse.” 

Darcy turned to him, her brow furrowed. “Seriously?  _How?”_

“Could’a been 80.” He stared at her. “Could been a dream.” 

She blinked as her eyes filled. “It’s not fair… You got out. You got another chance. And now… It’s over?” She shook her head. “You deserved better.” 

“I don’t know. I had it pretty good.” He licked his dry lips. “I had you, right?” 

Her mouth trembled. “It’s not enough.” 

The pain was gone. It was a relief, even though he knew what it meant. “It was plenty. Lot more than I ever thought I’d get.” More than he’d thought he deserved for a long while. 

“Bucky…” She turned over and pushed onto her knees. “You can’t go, okay? Steve needs you.  _I_ need you.” She put her gun aside and cupped his face, her thumbs stroking across the high arch of his cheeks. “I know I pretend nothing bothers me, but it does. Everything scares me. Growing up, natural disasters, heights, spiders,  _love_. Being with you put a lot of that to test. It made me into a better person. A stronger person. And I like to think it did the same for you. I think it still could. But you need to be here for that, okay?” 

He wanted to. God, he wanted to, so damn much. But his vision was darkening around the edges and his body was growing number by the second. He coughed then, his chest jerking forward and blood dribbling down his chin. “Darce…” 

She let out a strangled noise. “No, please, you can’t die now…” She leaned in, pressing her forehead to his. “It’s just the beginning.” 

He squeezed his eyes shut and swallowed down the burning lump building in his throat. “Rain check, all right?”

With a strangled sob, Darcy nodded. “Rain check.”

He could hear thumping footsteps and muffled voices calling to each other in the hallway then. He pulled in a deep breath, his heart stuttering, and he pushed his gun into her hand, staring up at her meaningfully. 

Darcy stared back for a beat. Stubborn and wild and wearing her tears like war paint. She pressed a kiss to his forehead and his cheek and his lips, and then she stood, raising both guns as she went.

What was left of the door flew open and bullets started flying. 

Darcy’s war cry echoed in his ears, the last thing he heard before it all went dark.


	36. "I took your hoodie and I’m not giving it back."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **prompt** : "I took your hoodie and I’m not giving it back." from rdprice29

Darcy’s hair was a rat-nest of curls that no brush dared to go near. At this point, her hair elastic was a war hero for managing to keep it all together in a lopsided attempt at a bun atop her head. She stood, glasses drooping down her nose, eyes crusty with sleep, dried drool at the corner of her mouth, watching the coffee machine as she waited for it to bless her cup. 

Behind her, Bucky sat at the kitchen island, his own mug of coffee in front of him, watching her through his hair as it fell across his face, shrouding him from the surrounding world. Darcy was one of the few people in the building he didn’t register as an immediate threat. Even her friend and boss, Dr. Foster, had the ability to cause him damage. But Darcy didn’t fall into that category. Then again, it had crossed his mind that her ability to look like the complete opposite of a threat was a disguise all its own. 

Darcy was also one of only a few people who wasn’t skittish around him. He wasn’t sure if that was a good sign. Either she had terrible self-preservation skills or she trusted that he could handle himself. Given that she was willingly living in a tower full of superheroes that attracted danger like no else, he leaned more toward the former. Still, he liked that she didn’t spook. That she lingered and talked to him and let her guard down. He wasn’t used to it and he appreciated that little slice of normality.

An appreciative moan left her when coffee started flowing into her mug. She tucked her hands in the pocket of her hoodie, her shoulders hunched as she leaned forward and inhaled deeply. A smile edged at her mouth and her eyes fluttered. Rocking back on her heels, she started humming under her breath. 

“Buck, you almost ready?” Steve appeared in the kitchen without warning. 

Bucky startled, but kept his reaction muted. Had he been so distracted with Darcy that he hadn’t heard Steve coming or was Steve unnaturally quiet in his approach? “Yeah. Almost.” 

“Morning, Darcy,” Steve greeted. 

She grunted and nodded her head vaguely in his direction. 

Steve looked amused. “First cup?”

“What gave me away?” Retrieving her full mug, she hugged it with both hands and raised it to her nose, inhaling deeply. Turning on her heel, she looked between them and frowned. “It’s rude to look that put together this early in the morning.” 

“It’s eight.” 

“ _Wrong_. Blasphemous! Cruel!” she announced before taking a long sip from her mug. 

Shaking his head, Steve opened his mouth to say something, but paused. Brow furrowed, he said, “Nice shirt.” 

She looked down at herself, shrugged, and then turned a look on Bucky. “I took your hoodie and I’m not giving it back. It’s mine now. You left it on the couch and I’ve adopted it. I am open to joint custody on the weekends though.” 

Bucky blinked. “Didn’t take you for a thief.” 

She smirked. “There’s a lot you still need to learn about me.” She walked away then, hips swaying. “Let me know when you’re interested.” 

Bucky shifted on his stool to watch her go, an eyebrow raised and a slow smile pulling at his mouth. Oh, he was interested…

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [but let me tell you baby (i'm so crazy for you)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2347334) by [plannedserviceinterruption](https://archiveofourown.org/users/plannedserviceinterruption/pseuds/plannedserviceinterruption)




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